Your Broken Doll
by Rinoneechan17
Summary: Twenty-year-old, Emma Ventura is traveling with her class on a field trip to study the gorgeous headquarters of Hale Enterprises, owned and runned by it's current CEO, Derek Hale. Together, they embark on a passionate affair, discovering each other's deepest secrets and dark pasts. Rated M for sexuality, language, and minor violence. DerekXOC
1. Chapter 1

**This is an alternate story to my other Teen Wolf Fanfic. **

**Chapter 1**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf and/or characters**

**Rated M for explicit sex, language, and violence**

**Enjoy**

* * *

**February 9...**

I force my eyes to open and fight away the drowsiness that threatens to override my body. Rubbing my forehead, I sit up in my seat and just as I do, the bus drives over a pot hole. The sudden jerk causes me to slap myself and my bun comes undone. A headache threatens to form. Irritated, I pull the hairtie from the end of my hair. My dark hair falls around my shoulders in unwanted waves. It's long. Too long and frizzy. I weave my thick hair into my hands and let it drape over my right shoulder. The ends nearly reaching my waist. The bus rolls to a stop in front a large skyscraper. I peer out of the window and gawk at the large edifice. A sky-piercing tower of black concrete and steel with dark windows. All the way at the top of the building is the word "HALE" written in large silver steel.

I follow my classmates out of the bus. Professor Harris stands in front of us and explains the important rules that we must absolutely not break. Mr. Hale, owner and CEO of Hale Enterprises, has generously allowed the SAU Commercial Design class to tour his building. My eyes drift back to the building. It is unbelievably and magnificently black. It stands out against the other concrete and steel buildings surrounding it. We are only allowed to tour the first forty-five floors, only half of the building. I slip my sketch book out of my bag. I want to draw as much as I can. I furiously sketch the building as Prof. Harris continues to lecture.

The wind is cold. It blows against my legs, manages to chill me through my jeans. I wore my favorite brown leather boots to keep my feet warm, and the black suede coat my mother bought me for Christmas. The air bites at my nose and I bury the lower half of my face in my scarf. Prof. Harris orders us to follow him inside and I silently curse at him. My drawing is nearly finished, but the lines are rushed and ugly. Damn it. Maybe I can smooth it out back in my dorm.

The lobby is breathtaking. White marble floors and pillars seem to go on forever around the entire space. A pretty red-haired receptionist sits behind a charcoal gray desk with the Hale Enterprises' logo on the front. Behind her is a large painting of a wolf howling in the moonlight. I frown at the painting. It seems to command the presence of the whole room, drawing attention to it. What an odd thing to have in a lobby.

"Okay, we'll be moving by elevator, so two security guards will be escorting us to keep us all together. Understand?" Professor Harris stands in the elevator hall. "Good. Let's go, people!"

There are only twenty of us, but we split into two groups. I squeeze into the second elevator with one of the security guards. He wears a crisp black suit and tie with an earpiece snugly fit into his right ear. We begin on the forty-fifth floor. Professor Harris's plan is to work our way down. I am disappointed with not being allowed to see Mr. Hale's office. I would love to see how a rich CEO like him has his office designed. All I can imagine is sleek desk, floor-to-ceiling windows, and red carpet. _Red? What the hell? _I pinch the top of my nose, between my eyes, to clear my head of that image.

The elevator doors open swiftly and I follow the group out. We regather in the hallway. Surprisingly, the walls are a cream color with rich brown carpet. Several paintings hang on the wall, spread apart amongst various doors. "This floor is part of the development sections of the building. Floors forty-three to forty-seven have numerous scientists and geniuses creating new ideas to further Hale Enterprises' potential. We're not going to go into any rooms other than empty meeting rooms. I want everyone to admire the layout and the color schemes..."

I flip the page of my sketch book and take notes and sparsely sketch the offices we pass by. The windows aren't big, but I can tell that each office is personalized. Though, all contain a somewhat fitted format: cherry wood desks with gray carpet, and cream walls. By the time we make it to the twentieth floor, my hand is sore. I absentmindedly follow the group, trailing in the back. The muscles in my thumb ache in protest, but I ignore them and continue jotting down notes of the labs. As we near the elevator hall, I glance at the wall and freeze. Another wolf painting. What is it with all the wolves?

The painting is slightly smaller than the one in the lobby. It depicts a arctic wolf standing on a ledge with it's red eyes gazing back at me. The painting is so detailed that I can hardly tell it's not real. Inspired, I flip to a blank page and begin sketching. I don't know why, though. Perhaps it's the look in the wolf's eyes, as if it is commanding attention, daring you to touch. I never knew a painting could inspire such feelings. With the wolf quickly drawn, I make a note of the colors. This could inspire me for my final project. I hear the elevator ding, and I gasp.

I slap the sketch book closed and bolt towards the elevator hall. Someone turns the corner just as I do and I collide with them. Or rather, I bounce right off of them. I yelp as I land awkwardly on my elbow. Pain shoots up my arm and I feel the urge to cry and laugh at the same time. _Fuck! That hurts! _A shadow passes over me and I glance up at the person I bounced off of. A young, attractive-_very_ attractive man kneels down in front of me and offers his hand.

"Are you alright?" His voice is deep and smooth. Slightly dazed, I take his hand, mesmerized by his stunning male beauty. With his other hand, he grabs my arm and lifts me to my feet. Standing up, I realize he is tall, nearly a whole foot taller than me, and dressed in a dark gray suit, white shirt, and a blue and grey patterned tie with lazily combed black hair and piercing pale blue eyes. His lips curl into a amused smirk. "Should I take you to the hospital?"

"What?" I ask, breathless.

His gaze lowers to my throbbing elbow. I hadn't realized I was cradling it. "Uh...no," I drop my hands and re-shoulder my bag. My bag! It's unusually light. I glance down and find it's contents are spilled out all over the floor. "Crap. Um, excuse me."

He says nothing as I drop to my knees and begin gathering my numerous pencils and erasers. Thankfully, my phone is intact and my wallet didn't open despite it being full of coins. I turn and see the man picking up my sketch book, it is open on my recent sketch: the wolf. He stands and studies it, occasionally glancing at the painting on the wall. "You're very talented," he says simply and hands it back.

"Thank you," I murmur. There's a strange glint in his eyes. I can't tall if he's truly impressed or annoyed.

"You never answered my first question, Miss...?" He tilts his head, regarding me with patience.

"Ventura. Emma Ventura," I say. I catch myself rubbing my elbow and stop.

The man's eyes shift from my elbow back to my face. "_Are_ you alright? Do you need the hospital?"

"No. It's just sore. Nothing a bag of ice can't fix," I say with a forced chuckle. I swallow nervously. The man's gaze makes me uncomfortable, like an intimate spotlight is being shined on me.

"Come to my office," he says and points to the elevators with his chin. "I have plenty of ice up there."

"Um...," I know I should refuse and return to the group, but the thought of them slips from my mind.

"Sure." I don't know what compels me to accept. My mind grows a little fuzzy as nervousness rattles my body. "Okay."

He steps aside and holds his arm out, motioning for me to lead the way. I enter the hallway and glance back at him, silently asking where to go. He walks over to the right side and hits the up button. Shyly, I stand by him and cradle my elbow again. This man unnerves me, and I don't know why. The doors glide open and he lets me step in first. I slink against the far wall as he follows me inside. He presses a button, but I can't see which. He slips his hands into his pants pockets and stands with his back to me. I see the muddied reflection of his face in the elevator doors. I blink away my shyness and muster some courage. "I, uh, want to apologize...for running into you. I wasn't looking where I was going."

"No need to apologize, Miss Ventura," he says impassively. "Accidents happen."

I glance at his reflection, but I cannot make out the expression on his face. The doors open and I follow him out. He leads me through a long hallway into another lobby. A gorgeous blond-haired woman sits behind a mahogany desk. She smiles upon seeing the man. "Good afternoon, Mr. Hale."

_Mr. Hale?! Holy shit! _

"Good afternoon, Anna." He strides leisurely past her to set of dark wood doors with brush nickel handles. Anna eyes me curiously as I follow Mr. Hale into his office.

The door swings shut behind me and Mr. Hale quickly turns towards a sitting area. The room is larger than any office I have ever seen. A mahogany wood desk faces me with several suede gray chairs in a half moon in front of it. To my left, is the sitting area with dark gray suede couches and a coffee table that matches the desk. Against the wall is a counter with several types of liquor in glass bottles, various drinking glasses, and plates. Mr. Hale sets a cloth down on the counter and opens a trap door I can't see on the counter. He picks up a set of prongs and scoops out ice. Above him is a larger painting of another wolf. This one depicts a family of wolves. This man has a strange fixation with wolves.

Mr. Hale turns to me with the ice wrapped in cloth and gestures to the couch, "Come and sit."

I oblige and slowly sink into the plush cushions, still cradling my elbow. Mr. Hale walks over and stands directly in front of me. "Take off your coat."

For a moment, my cheeks threaten to blush. He stares at me, expressionless and waiting. I set my bag down on the floor, unbutton my coat and shrug it off. Underneath, I am wearing a v-neck purple long-sleeved shirt. The scarf hides my cleavage well enough that I don't mind the exposure. Mr. Hale gestures to my injured elbow. "Roll up your sleeve."

I do and wince as the throbbing gets worse. Once my skin is exposed, Mr. Hale gracefully swoops down and presses the ice against my elbow. My nerves burn at the sudden cold, but I feel relieved as the throbbing subsides. Mr. Hale sits down beside me, holding the ice cloth in place. His fingers are loosely latched onto my arm. My heartrate increases. I never let men touch me, even if it's to help me. Dread fills me as I await the fear and disgust of a man's touch. The dread that has been with me since I was thirteen. I wait for it. Only, it doesn't come. I don't feel compelled to jump away in desperation. I glance down at his hands. His fingers are touching my bare skin. The sight of this and the feeling of skin on mine brings an unfamiliar feeling within my gut. I try to shove it down. He's just helping me. This insanely rich, attractive, young, CEO of a large corporation is helping me.

"I meant to ask earlier," he says, fixing his blue eyes on me. "What were you doing on the twentieth floor?"

"Touring," I say.

"Art students don't normally tour the labs."

"Oh, I'm not an art student." I give him a simple smile to hide my uneasiness. "I'm here on a field trip with my class from SAU."

"SAU?" He arches an eyebrow at me, intrigued. "The Commercial Design class?"

"Yes. I'm, um, I'm a architectural design major."

He nods his head, considering this and glances at my bag momentarily before looking at me again. "And you sketch on the side?"

"It's for notes and stuff like that. I just...," my eyes shift to the wolf panting. "I really liked that painting."

His face hardens a little. "What did you like about it?"

I blink at him, confounded by his unexpected question. "Well...the wolf's expression, for one. It's like the wolf was commanding attention. It pulled at me. Like...I dunno, I'm not really good with describing art." My shoulders slump at my confession. "It inspired me, I guess. I felt compelled to...capture it."

Mr. Hale's eyes brighten a little. I think I've piqued his interest, and I flush. "Why architectural design, if I may ask?"

His question for permission beguiles me. He hadn't asked permission to touch me. Though I didn't deny him, either. I clear my throat. "I like drawing buildings and I love designing spaces. I originally wanted to be an interior designer, but after taking a drafting class, I changed my mind."

"I wasn't aware SAU had a bachelor's for architectural design." He doesn't say it like a question, but I take it as one.

"It doesn't. I'm aiming for the Master's program." The throbbing in my elbow has stopped and I think my nerves are completely numb to the ice.

"Are you a graduate?" he asks.

"No, I'm an undergrad. Er, a junior."

His frowns at my answer. He pulls the ice from my elbow, "Does it still hurt?"

"I can't feel anything, actually."

He lets go of my arm and stands, taking the bag of ice with him. I roll my sleeve back down and knot my fingers together in my lap. The uneasiness in my gut begins to subside now that he's no longer touching me. A wave of various emotions wash over me and I struggle to remain steady. Mr. Hale drops the ice into a small bar sink and sets the cloth down. "Do you have any design samples?"

I blink at his back. "I'm sorry. Design samples of what?"

"Any designs at all, interior or architectural." He turns around as he asks this, drying his hands on another cloth.

"Not with me. They're back at my dorm." I point to the door with my thumb as I say this.

"Judging from your sketch, I can tell you have an eye for detail. I'd like to see your designs," he says, his voice soft but impassive.

"You only saw one sketch."

"A sketch that captured the intensity of that painting," he retorts with a small smirk. He places his hands in his pockets and steps a little closer to the couch. "I, too, have an eye for detail. I'm an excellent judge of character. As I said earlier, you are very talented. And so, I am interested in seeing what else you have drawn. Let me see your sketchbook, once more."

Once again, he stands in front of me and holds his hand out. Nervously, I pull it out from my bag and hand it over. Immediately, he flips it open and stares at the first page. I'm silently thankful that this sketchbook is new. I bought it two days ago, and it only contains the sketches I've drawn today. He flips through it and walks around to the other side of the table. I wonder if it is to prevent me from taking it back. He flips back to the first page and holds it up for me to see. It is the sketch of the building. "What made you draw this?"

"Your building is very beautiful. It stands out against the others...like a dark tower."

"A dark tower?" he asks, his eyes darkening, and I feel heat in my cheeks at his strange gaze.

He cradles it in his arms and flips through the rest, finding nothing else. He walks back around and holds it out to me. I grab it, but he doesn't let go. I look up at him and he holds my gaze, entrapping me. "I mean it. I'd like to see any designs you have." He lets go and I set the sketchbook down on my lap, my eyes not leaving his. "Perhaps we can arrange a meeting sometime next week?"

_What? _"Why?"

"Well, it is Friday and I am leaving for New York this weekend. Otherwise, I'd have you run to your dorm and bring your designs back here today." I can see disappointment in his eyes. From not being able to see my designs right way? _I highly doubt it._

"I meant, why me? Why my designs?"

"Like I said, Miss Ventura, you're very talented." I squirm beneath his gaze. Why am I so uneasy? Is it because, for some odd reason, he likes my sketches and wants to see my designs? Yes, that must be it. I'm nervous. My designs aren't that good. Wait, designs? I gasp and fish my cellphone out of my bag. It's a quarter to four. "Oh, shit."

I stuff it back in and, once again, drop my sketchbook on the floor. It slides several feet away from me and Mr. Hale picks it up. "What is it?"

"My class. They're probably in the lobby waiting for me." Without thinking, I snatch my sketchbook from him and shove it into my bag. "I didn't mean to take up so much of your time, Mr. Hale, but I have to go."

"I'll call security and inform them you're heading down there," he says and walks by me. For a brief moment, I see a flash of anger in his eyes. He grabs my coat and helps me into it. His hands smooth my shoulders and slide down my arms before he releases me. As I turn to face him, he is pulling a card out of his wallet. He holds it out to me. "This is my card. My cell number is on there. I want to see your designs, Miss Ventura. Call me."

Hesitantly, I take it. "Thank you, Mr. Hale."

I read his name. _Derek Hale. _

He walks me to the door and holds it open for me. Anna motions to get up, but Mr. Hale waves her off and walks me back to the elevators. I stand in front of the doors and turn to face him. He reaches past me to press the down button. I'm very aware of the brief proximity. He didn't touch me, but I could feel his body heat. My heartbeat quickens and I don't know why. Why am I acting this way? Why do I want him to touch me again? "If your elbow starts hurting again, you should go to the hospital. The last thing you want is a fractured arm."

The doors open and I step inside. My eyes meet his and I clutch my bag strap as if holding on for dear life. The corner of his lip curls into a smile. "I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Ventura."

And the doors close, leaving me hanging with that final statement. The elevator begins to move and I breathe. Tension and anxiety oozes out of me and I relax. I replay the whole thing in my head. Did I really just meet Derek Hale? _The_ Derek Hale? Bumping into him like that was completely embarrassing. Thank God, he had the decency to ice my elbow. _Touch. _Instinctively, I grab my elbow and remember his hands on my arm...on my bare skin. The ding of the elevator snaps me from my alien thoughts. I bolt out of the hallway and into the lobby.

**...**

"Well, don't you look like a ray of sunshine."

I glare at my roommate as I shut the door behind me. Kira is sitting on her bed, surrounded by papers and technology. I drop my bag and flop down on my bed. I can hear Kira giggle. "Was it that unbearable?"

"_Uhh ha nah iea._" I grumble into my blanket.

"What?"

I lift my head, "You have no idea."

Reluctantly, I sit up to face her. Seeing her, releases a lot of today's tension. "Professor Harris chewed me out."

"What? Why?"

"Well, I got sidetracked during the tour and ran into Derek Hale and-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Kira throws her hands up, stopping me. "Did you just say...Derek Hale? Like, _the _Derek Hale? Current owner and CEO of Hale Enterprises? One of the most successful and wealthy businesses in the world?"

I fidget with my nails shyly. "Yes."

"OMG, Emma!" She shoves her laptop and papers aside so she can dangle her legs off the bed. "What happened? Tell me everything! Is he gorgeous?"

I blush. "Yes, he is." I tuck my hair behind my ears. "Anyways, I ran into him-literally. He took me to his office and iced my elbow. We talked a little. He told me he likes my sketches and..." I trail off.

"And what, Emma? Come on, don't leave me hanging," she begs eagerly.

"He says he wants to see my designs. He asked me to come back sometime next week."

Kira's eyes light up, "Oh, Emma. That is amazing! He must have good taste because your designs are really awesome."

I smile at her compliment. Kira and I have been close friends since we met at orientation. The closest I've been with anyone, and I haven't had any real friends. So close, that she knows my deep, dark secrets. My smile falls and I pick at my nails. "I can't believe you captured the attention of, like, the most eligible bachelor in the United Sates," Kira gasps. "When are you gonna see him again?"

"I don't know." I pull his card from my back pocket. "He gave me his phone number, and asked me to set up a date and time."

Kira stares wide-eyed at the card and squeals. "Emma! Call him! You have to call him! Please, please, call him!"

"I don't know," I whine.

"Why not? From what little you have told me, it sounds like he's interested." She flashes a goofy smile at me as she wiggles her eyebrows. "You shouldn't pass up this chance. This is, like, a once in a lifetime opportunity. This is your Fifty Shades of Grey moment!"

I frown at her in disgust, and I feel even more compelled to crumple the card and throw it away. Kira sees my discomfort and softens, "I'm just teasing, Emma. Seriously, you should call him."

Hearing her say this, insecurity pangs against my chest and I hug myself. Kira furs her eyebrows, "Emma, whats wrong? Did something...happen?"

She's being sensitive, knowing about my haphephobia. My fear of being touched. I close my eyes and whisper, "He touched me."

I peek at Kira through my lashes. She gets up and sits down beside me. "Oh, Emma," she murmurs. Slowly, she wraps her arm around my shoulders and hugs me. I welcome her contact. I trust her. I don't really have an issue with women touching me. It's men. "He didn't try anything, did he? Didn't force himself?"

I shake my head.

"I'm sorry, Emma. Forget about him, then. Don't call. You shouldn't feel uncomfortable."

"That's not it." My voice grows painfully quiet. "Kira, he touched me...and I let him."

She leans back in shock. "What?"

"I mean, he only touched my arm," I explain as I gesture to my injured elbow. "He held a bag of ice against my arm. When I ran into him, I fell, so he...you know. But, the moment I felt his hand on me, I just..." I'm at a loss for words. I don't know how to explain it. Especially, since I don't really understand it myself. A man I had just met has had this strange effect on me. Kira frowns. She's trying to understand.

"Are you saying...you didn't mind him touching you?"

"I think so." I don't know if I can openly admit how I felt when Mr. Hale touched me. That unfamiliar stir in my gut. What was that? I've never felt something like that before. It excites and scares me. I run my forehead and stand up. "I think I just need to go to bed. I'm really tired."

"Okay. You know, maybe you should call him," she says and shrugs. "He could be your foot in the door."

I nod and study the card in my hand once more. _Derek Hale_. Maybe, Kira's right. He could help me. And, I'd be able to see him again. I turn curtly to remove my coat and hide my smile from Kira. I don't want to admit my excitement. Not yet, anyway.

* * *

**End of Chapter 1**

**Please Review. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf and/or characters**

**Rated M for sexuality, language, and minor violence**

**Enjoy**

* * *

**February 12...**

"Your books are due on March 26th."

The male student gives me a semi polite smile and takes his books off the counter. He is immediately replaced by another. I blink and immediately recognize the boy. "Hi, Isaac."

"Hey, Emma." He gives me a polite smile and places a hand on the counter. "I was hoping you could help me. I can't find a certain reference book."

"Oh, sure," I say. Slightly turning on my stool, I bring up the catalog on the computer. "Which one are you looking for?"

"Um," he glances at a piece of paper in his hand. "Serial Killers...uh, by Harold Schector."

I stare at him. Isaac blushes, "It's for my psych class. I'm doing an essay."

"Okay." His reaction makes me smirk. Ever since I met Isaac, I believed we were cut from the same cloth. Our fears are very similar. But he has Allison. She can touch him. I envy that. _Touch._Pushing the thought aside, I jot down the library location number. "Follow me. Lena, I'll be back in a moment."

Lena, the head librarian, waves at me from her desk. She has a sandwich in her mouth and is watching something on her phone. Isaac follows me past the children's section and non-fiction. The reference section is nestled in a small enclosure, surrounded by tables and chairs. I search the upper right side and find the one he wants. Getting up on my toes, I wiggle it out. "Here."

"Thanks, Emma, you're a lifesaver." He takes the book and he is careful not to touch my hand. "Oh, I forgot, Allison's dad is having some kind of charity event. She wanted me to invite you. She would've done so herself, but hasn't found time."

"When is it?" I lead him back to the checkout desk.

"Friday night. It's at the Everlost Hotel. Starts at 8, I think."

"Oh, good. I don't work that night and I have Saturday off." I've been to the Argent's events before. They're intimidating and I _always_ end up leaving after dinner, unable to bear the drunk old men. But, she is a friend. A friend who invited me, so I might as will humor her.

"Do you still work at...what was that place called?" he asks, setting his library card down on the counter.

"Spacey's Space. And, no." I shudder at the memory of how I quit. "Working two jobs was getting stressful, and this one is the least stressful."

"Well, that's good. By the way, are there any positions opened here?" His voice is quiet when he asks, like he might get in trouble for doing so.

"Why?"

He shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably. "Well, I quit my job at the school media center and...I haven't told Allison yet. Plus, the library pays good, right?"

I shrug, "Yeah, I suppose. Pays for food. Um, you know what, Lena is right here. Let me ask her real quick."

I walk away from the counter, leaving Isaac anxious and eager. Lena's office is mainly windows and there's no door. As I enter, she pauses her video and smiles up at me. I mirror her smile, "Lena, um, I have one of my classmates here. He wants to apply."

Lena glances out the window to study Isaac. "Is he your boyfriend?"

"No."

"Is he an unwanted admirer?"

"No. He's a friend, and he's dating another friend, Allison."

Lena nods slowly then shrugs. "Alright, if you think he might be a good fit here, give him an application. As long as he doesn't make you uncomfortable."

"Okay. He, uh, doesn't, though," I say with a reassuring smile.

I fish an application from one of the filing cabinets in the corner and present it to Issac. His eyes light up excitedly. "Really? Damn, Emma. You _are_ a lifesaver. Thanks."

His smile is enough. We say our goodbyes and he leaves with an extra spring in his step. I snort at him. He's so eager to please Allison. He really likes her. I can tell by how he stares at her. I glance down at my hands and frown. I'm holding Mr. Hale's card. _What the hell? _I know it was tucked safely in my pocket. I didn't want to lose it so I've been carrying it around with me. It's only Monday. Is it too soon to call?

During my lunch break, I sit in Lena's office with my tub of leftover shrimp scampi and angel hair pasta. Mr. Hale's card is lying on my phone in front of me as I eat. Staring at the card makes me blush and I set my food down. This is absolutely stupid. I'll just call him. Kira said there's no harm in indulging. I slide my unfinished food to the side and dial the cell number. Mr. Hale answers after the first ring.

"This is Hale," he says in a cold, clipped tone.

For a brief moment, I'm unable to find my voice.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Hale," I manage. "This is, um, Emma. Emma Ventura."

"Miss Ventura, I'm glad you called." His voice has changed. A tone I'm not familiar with, and my heart flutters.

"I, uh...you said you wanted to meet sometime this week?"

"I did," he notes. "What day would be convenient for you?"

_For me? _I stare at the wall like it'll give me my answer. I mentally go through my class and work schedule. "I'm actually free tomorrow or Thursday after 3."

I hear him hum in thought. I imagine him scratching his chin as he thinks, rubbing his thumb along his bottom lip. _Stop it. _"Tomorrow at 3 is fine. I'll send my driver to pick you up."

"You don't need to do that. I can take a cab or the bus-"

"No," he says, rather sternly. His voice softens slightly, "I insist, Miss Ventura. Boyd, my driver, will collect you at the front of SAU."

I blink, a little mystified. "Um, actually, I'm gonna be at work."

"And where is that?"

"Beacon Hills Public Library," I inform.

His silent for a minute. "Very well. He'll pick you up at 3."

I swallow, unsure of what to say. "Er...thank you, Mr. Hale. I, uh, have to go."

"Do you?" He sounds...sulky?

"Yes. My lunch break is over and I have to get back to work."

"Very well. Oh, and Miss Ventura? I look forward to seeing you tomorrow." I can hear his smile.

"Bye," I whisper and swiftly hang up. _"bye"? Ugh!_

I set my phone down and slide it away from me. I glare at it, wondering how the in the world I'm gonna impress Mr. Hale. "Ugh, I shouldn't have called," I groan and bury my face in my hands.

**...**

"You gotta dress nicer than that," Kira scolds. She's standing in front of the door, preventing me from leaving.

"Kira, move. I gotta go to work and this bag is heavy." It really is heavy. My portfolio bag holds four large 18-inch by 24-inch pads of paper with various designs since my first design class. I am dressed sensibly. Jeans, boots, and a v-neck sweater with a scarf to hide my cleavage. I french-braided my hair to keep my face clear. I want Mr. Hale to think I'm attentive and professional. I even put on make-up and jewelry.

"At least wear heels or something," Kira begs, gesturing to the box of black heels I haven't touched since Christmas. Another gift from my mother.

"No. I can't walk well in them and I'm not gonna be able to function properly with blisters on my feet. Move, Kira."

"Ugh, fine. At least, put some lipstick on-"

"No!" I yell, exasperated. "This isn't a date, Kira. He just wants to see my designs. I told you."

She folds her arms under her chest and eyes me suspiciously. "Are you gonna let him touch you again?"

I blush. "No."

She steps aside as I stomp out. "I'm gonna call you if you don't come back tonight!" she yells after me. I glare back at her as I turn the corner of the hallway, steaming at her stupid smirk.

**...**

"See you tomorrow, Lena."

"Bye, Emma."

Isaac waves at me from the YA section as I pass by. He doesn't seem as lost and nervous as I thought he would, but I'm glad Lena said yes. I switch hands to hold my heavy portfolio bag and walk outside. The wind is exceptionally cold and I'm standing at the top of the stairs wondering what the hell Boyd would look like. "Miss Ventura?"

A tall, handsome African American man approaches me. "I'm Boyd. I'm here to take you to Mr. Hale."

"Oh, hi."

He nods and holds his hands out. "Let me take your bag, please."

"Um...thanks." I use both hands to lift my portfolio bag. He takes it and frowns. He's obviously surprised at the weight, but says nothing as he leads me down the steps. I would whistle if I could. Boyd opens the trunk of a black Cadillac Escalade. It's stunning. Boyd opens the back passenger door for me. I sheepishly slip inside. Leather seats. _Nice. _Even the air in here smells expensive. Boyd jumps into the driver's seat and smoothly veers into traffic.

Boyd is quiet as he drives and it doesn't help my nervousness. Curiosity gets the best of me, "Excuse me, Boyd. How long have you worked for Mr. Hale, if I may ask?"

"Ten years, ma'am."

_Ma'am? I'm not old enough to be a ma'am. _"Oh, okay. Just curious."

"There's nothing wrong with that, Miss Ventura."

I nod my head. I usually talk to ease my stress, but I don't know what to talk about. I wanna ask him a million questions about Mr. Hale, but I know that's not appropriate. I'm sure Boyd is just a driver. But, he did say ten years. _Hm. _"Boyd, how old is Mr. Hale?"

"He's 25, ma'am."

_25? He's so freaking young! _I inwardly cringe at my stupid teenage hopes. A man like Mr. Hale could have any woman he wants. Supermodels, actresses, other rich women. Me? A twenty-year-old, broken, haphephobic, awkward girl who works at a library. _No, there's no way._

Boyd parks in front of Hale Enterprises. He's out and at my door before I have a chance to open it myself. He holds his hand out to help me step out. I flush and don't take it. Boyd furs his brow slightly, but says nothing and retrieves my portfolio bag. A thin man jogs over to us and Boyd hands him the keys to the Escalade. Boyd's professional chivalry makes me nostalgic. And not in a good way.

The red-haired receptionist does a double take as Boyd leads me to the elevators. We are both silent on the way up. On the top floor, Anna gives me a polite smile. "Miss Ventura, Mr. Hale has been expecting you. Give me a moment, Boyd."

Anna taps her phone and says, "Mr. Hale, Miss Ventura is here...right away, sir." She looks at me. "Mr. Hale will see you now. Go on in."

Boyd nods and opens the door for me. The office is still the same, but now, there's a large table near the sofas. It's a simple dark wood table with no drawers and no chairs surrounding it. Mr. Hale is behind his desk, a phone in hand, and staring out the windows. Boyd stands beside the table. "Do you want your bag on the table, Miss Ventura?"

"Um, no. The coffee table is fine."

He nods and complies. He swiftly walks out, leaving me alone with Mr. Hale. I don't know if he knows I'm in the room, but I busy myself with pulling out my large pads of paper. I set them on the table and open each to the first page. They fit perfectly and I smile at them with pride. Satisfied, I take off my coat and bag and drape them on the couch. Mr. Hale ends his conversation and sets his phone down on his desk. And, his blue eyes are on me. I inhale sharply, but do my best to remain professional and impassive.

"Miss Ventura, it's wonderful to see you again. I trust you didn't run into anyone else on your way up here?" He smirks as he slowly walks over to me.

He's teasing me? _Prick_. I clear my throat, relaxing a little. "No, sir, I didn't."

His smirk falls and he glances at the table. His intelligent eyes furiously study my designs. I stand aside as he flips through them, each and every drawing. I knot my fingers against my stomach. His face is expressionless and I am a ball of nerves threatening to explode with anxiety. Occasionally, he grabs his chin and rubs his bottom lip with his thumb. Every time he does this, my heart skyrockets. I wish he would stop doing that. It makes me squirm. He moves back to the second pad and furiously flips to a particular design. Without looking at me, he waves his fingers at me in a summoning motion. "Come here."

Sheepishly, I walk around to his side. He presses his finger against the page. "This. What is this?"

I lean over the table. His finger is outside the drawing. "A floor design, Mr. Hale. Of a commercial building."

"Anything in particular?"

"No, not really," I confess. I recall the assignment. I had picked out a picture of an eagle in mid-flight and designed a floor plan based on it. I'm quite proud of it, and so was my professor. "Do you like it?"

"I do," he says. "It gives me ideas."

I glance out the window, bashful at his statement, and fidget with my nails. Mr. Hale sighs and it nearly makes me jump. "I seem to have forgotten my manners. Would you like a drink?"

"Yes, please."

Placing his hands into his pockets, he walks over to the counter. "I have some scotch, if you'd like to try it."

_I' hate scotch. _"Um, I'm not twenty-one yet," I inform apologetically. "But, I'll take some water...if you, uh, have it."

I see his hands curl into fists for a moment then he relaxes and he pours a glass of water. He walks back over and holds out the ice water to me. With both shaky hands, I take it. My fingers brush his and I nearly drop the glass. I blush, "Sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? You managed not to drop it," he says and arches an eyebrow at me.

I can feel my cheeks getting hotter and I take a large gulp of water. I slide an ice cube from cheek to cheek to cool myself. Looking up, I realize Mr. Hale is watching me with an amused smile that doesn't reach his eyes. His eyes are dark, gleaming with something I cannot fathom. I take another gulp, then gesture to the pads. "So, what do you think of my designs?"

He stares at me a bit longer then glances down at the drawings. "I feel simply saying you're 'talented' is an understatement. You truly have a gift. A lot of this looks professional and reasonable. Your ideas and the impression each drawing gives off is different and unique. I can see these as real possibilities."

I smile. His voice is utterly sincere and serious. He looks at me and pauses. He studies my stupid grin and softly smiles. "You have a beautiful smile, Miss Ventura."

Immediately, my grin falls and I stare, stunned. His eyes widen and he raises his hand defensively. "I apologize. I didn't mean to offend you."

"Oh, no, you didn't." I furiously shake my head, painfully aware how red my face must be. "I...uh...um..."

He places his hand on my forearm and I freeze. He's touching me. Oh, my God, he is touching me! I stare at his hand on my clothed arm. His hold is soft, but it feels like he's keeping me steady. I feel that strange feeling in my gut once again. Slowly, I raise my eyes to meet his. His eyes are still dark, but his smile is warm and inviting. "Have dinner with me on Friday."

"...no," I whisper.

He leans his head back in surprise and drops his hand. _What? Wait, no! _I stammer to explain myself, "I-I mean, I c-can't Friday."

"Why not?" he asks. There's a hint of anger in his tone.

"I was invited to a charity event my friend's father is holding. I said I would go." I glance down at my knotted fingers. I roll my silver ring around on my finger. Maybe Allison won't mind if I cancel? Damn it.

"Would you like me to accompany you?"

I blink up at him. _Really? You would? _"Um, it's not too much trouble?"

He shakes his head. "I'd be delighted to go with you. That is, if you desire."

_Delighted? _I swallow my nervousness. "Yes, I'd like that."

"Good," he says smoothly. "When should I pick you up?"

"Um," I pause to think, "the event is at 8...at the Everlost Hotel."

He glances at the window in thought and tilts his head, "The annual Argent Corp charity event?"

"Ye...yes. How'd you know?"

"I know the Argents very well." His jaw clenches as he says this.

"You don't have to go, if you don't want to-"

"No," he says sternly. "As I said, I'd be delighted to go with you."

I can't help it. I smile, but I keep it controlled, appreciative. Mr. Hale regards me with an amused expression. "Have you been to the event before?"

"Once. It's really boring," I admit.

"It can be," he shrugs. His hands are in his pockets, again. I want him to touch my arm again. "I'll do my best to keep you entertained."

The heaviness in his voice nearly makes me back away from him. I stare at him, blushing and quiet, and he stares back, dark-eyed and intrigued. There's a knock on the door and it opens. Anna pokes her head in. "Mr. Hale? Miss Harmon is calling for you. She says it's urgent."

"I'll call her later." Mr. Hale snips.

Anna hesitates. "Sir..."

Mr. Hale slowly turns to look at her and raises an eyebrow. She blushes out of embarrassment and slips back outside. I untangle my fingers. "I don't want to keep you from working, Mr. Hale. I'll go."

"You don't have to." If I'm not mistaken, there's a very, very small hint of...desperation, I think.

I pull out my phone, it's already after 5. Strange, I didn't think I had been here that long. "No, I should. I have a test tomorrow, and I should study."

His jaw shifts and he glances down at my drawings. "You said you were free Thursday."

"Yes," I confirm, answering his non-question.

"I want you to leave these here and come back to see me on Thursday. It'll give me time to think over your skills, and arrange proposals for you."

_What? Holy shit, he doesn't mean-?! _"Are you...offering me a job?"

"Yes," he says with a smile. "Are you interested?"

"Uh...ye...yes!" I am baffled and excited. I tuck my hair behind my hair. "I mean, I'm not allowed to apply for internships until next year, but-"

"What I'm going to offer is not an internship, Miss Ventura. It's an actual job. I can introduce you to several firms with impeccable track records." He slips his hand out of his pocket and places it on the table. "It'd be a pure shame if you waited a whole year to unleash your talent upon the world."

I blink rapidly, matching the rhythm of my heart. How can he be so sure? I'm too scared to ask him. He's so generous and truthful-at least, I believe he is. Why else would he be wasting his time with me?

"Okay."

"Okay?" He frowns, puzzled.

"I'll come back Thursday."

"Good. Boyd will pick you up at 3 from the library."

_He remembered! _I gasp inwardly. "Thank you, Mr. Hale. For going out of your way for me. It's very generous."

He narrows his eyes at me. "Generosity has nothing to do with it, Miss Ventura. I am truly interested in your designs. You are a talented, beautiful woman."

_Beautiful? _Surely, he must be mistaken. As if he can read my mind, Mr. Hale glowers at me, silently ordering me to accept the compliment. His dark stare makes me squirm and I'm suddenly unbearably uncomfortable. Unable to think of what else to do, I briskly walk over to the couch and grab my bags and coat. Mr. Hale inhales sharply, "You are going."

"Yes, sir, I need to." I can't even manage an apologetic smile, but he seems to accept it anyways.

"Very well." There it is again. That flash of anger. He whisks past me in a few graceful strides and holds the door open for me. Upon seeing him, Anna pipes up. "Mr. Hale, Miss Bertrand has-"

"I'll call her in a moment, Anna."

"Er...yes, sir."

As we reach the elevator hallway, he turns to me. "Do you have something to wear for the event?"

I frown at his stern tone. "Yes."

He nods, satisfied with my answer. He presses the down button and slips his hands back into his pockets. "We can talk more on Thursday about Friday night."

I nod and the elevator opens. I step inside not as quickly as I had the first time I left him. "Miss Ventura," he says, commanding my attention. "Call me tomorrow, if you'd like. Otherwise, I'll see you Thursday."

My breath hitches and I am unable to answer as the doors close. The idea of prying the doors open and him touching my arm pops into my head. I slap my forehead. _Stop it. _Hold on. He said I could call him tomorrow? For what? Why would I? Should I? Does he mean he wants me to? Damn, this is so confusing. _Beautiful. _He called me beautiful. I blush at this realization.

**...**

I open the door of my dorm and immediately regret it. I gasp at the sight of Kira and her boyfriend, Scott, tangled up on the bed. I flinch and close the door. Standing outside, a few girls frown at me but continue on with their business. I can hear movement inside and whispered arguments. I step away as the door flies open. Scott is, thankfully, clothed and he zips up his hoodie. "Emma...I, uh...sorry."

As he runs down the hall, I wonder who's cheeks are redder. His or mine? Cautiously, I peek inside. Kira is sitting on her bed with a shamed expression. She, too, is dressed. She scrunches her face up at me. "I...am _soooooooooooooooo_ sorry, Emma. I thought you would be gone longer. You know, maybe all night."

"Kira!"

"I said maybe!"

I toss my empty portfolio bag at her. She clumsily catches it and sorrowfully watches me as I sit on my bed. "How'd your meeting go with Mr. Rich and Gorgeous?"

"Good," I sigh and fold my legs under me. "He liked my designs."

Kira's face brightens. "He did?"

"Mm-hm," I nod. "Kira, he's gonna offer me a job."

Her jaw drops open. "Are you serious? Oh, my God, Emma! That's amazing! Wait, what kind of job?"

I roll my eyes at her. "Designing...something. He asked me to meet him again on Thursday. He said he'd have some proposals for me."

"That's incredible, Emma. That really is." She clasps her hands together, unable to contain her excitement.

"Also," I smile in spite of myself. "He's coming with me to the charity event."

Kira gasps dramatically. "Another meeting and a date?! Work it, girl!"

My face burns scarlet. "Kira, stop, you're not helping."

"Sorry not sorry," she giggles. "Did he touch you again?"

I press my lips into a hard line and ever so slowly, nod my head. Kira's eyes widen, but she says calmly, "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, Emma. I've never seen you so interested in a guy before. Especially given your...past. You didn't feel disgusted at all? Did you throw up? Spaz out?"

"No. No. And no." I shake my head, exasperated. "Kira, I don't know how I feel about him. I don't really understand it myself. I mean, I...wanted him to touch me. I dunno, I think I'm...curious?"

Kira narrows her eyes at me. I think she's going to blow up at me, but instead she says, "Don't let it get out of your control. Don't push yourself."

I sigh and nod. _I don't think I can tell her. _I want Mr. Hale to touch me again. I want to see how far my phobia will let him go. _Do I? _Kira is looking out for me. I understand that. But, a part of me agrees with her. Curiosity killed the cat. My phone buzzes and it snaps me from my thoughts. Dread rattles my bones as I stare at the caller ID. Kira regards me worriedly as I slip into the bathroom. I gently close the door and answer. "_Alo?_"

"_Emma, mihija, ¿por qué no has llamado tu querida madre?_" slurs the voice on the other end.

"_Lo siento, mamá_." I reply, leaving all emotion but anger in my voice.

* * *

**End of Chapter 2**

**Please review**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf and/or characters**

**Rated M for sexuality, language, and minor violence**

**Enjoy**

* * *

**February 13...**

"_Emma, don't be like that_," my mother whines in drunk Spanish. _Fuck._ I absolutely hate it when she's like this. I can't believe she actually drunk dialed me.

"_Mom, I have A test tomorrow and I need to study. Can I call you later?_" I keep my voice steady, but cold.

My mother mumbles something incoherent then says, "_Your father wants you to visit this weekend. You should. Come see us, little girl._"_  
_

_Little girl? _It takes everything I have not to blow up at her. I curl my hand into a fist and say, "_Mom, please, please, go to bed. I am very busy with school and you'll see me this summer._"

"_Summer?! That's too far away, little girl! Come no...oh, I don't feel so well_." She burps.

I pull the phone away from my ear in disgust. "_Damn it, Mom! Go to bed._"

Before she can argue, I hang up. My damn mother. _Always!_ How does she manage to ruin everything?! I thought my father had her drinking under control. Years of deep anger stirs inside me. I need to do something. Something violent. I burst out of the bathroom and out of the dorm, ignoring Kira. Promptly, I make my way to the roof. The evening air does nothing to soothe my anger. I pace impatiently. _Throw something! I need to throw something! _Near the far edge is a trash pile of wood. They're all just broken pieces, left up here for some odd reason. I don't dwell on it.

I pick one up and hurl it over the side without a second thought. I can't tell where it lands in the sea of trees, and I don't care. I hurl another one. Then another. The excessiveness quickly tires me out. My anger is slipping, leaving me with a headache and terrible taste in my mouth. I sit down on a wooden crate. Memories flood into my mind. Memories of the nights I would hide my younger siblings and let my mother unleash her drunken rage on me. Me, and only me. But, her rages have been sparse now. Or, so I hope. _I really hate scotch._

**February 14...**

"Nice job as usual, Emma. Keep up the good work," Professor Harris says as I walk by his desk. His smile is polite and meaningful. I return his comment with a nod. My class has let out early and my shift doesn't start until 4. What the heck am I gonna do for three hours?

I enter my dorm and find it empty. _Oh._ That's right. Kira's class ends at 2:30 like mine usually does. Damn, I had hoped she'd join me for lunch. Ramen sounds really good right now. I wonder what Mr. Hale is doing? _Whoa! _I plop down on my bed, shocked with myself. No. No. No. That's an incredibly stupid idea. _Is it?_

Without another thought, I pull my cellphone out and dial his number. _Wait! Don't answer! No, answer! Please, don't answer! _My hands are shaking. I'm never this bold. This can't go down well. He's probably super busy or already has plans, or something. Mr. Hale answers after the third ring.

"Miss Ventura, it's nice to hear from you, again."

I gasp. He knows it's me? "Er, hi, Mr. Hale. Um, I hope I'm not bothering you."

"Of course not. What can I do for you?" He sounds distracted. He must be busy.

I clench my fist, struggling to get the words I want out of my mouth. "Uh, have you had lunch?"

After a beat, he says, "No, I haven't. Are you asking me to join you?"

"Um, yes, I am. That is, if it's not too much trouble and you don't mind-"

"I'd be happy to," he says willingly. "Where would you like to go?"

I wonder... "Do you like ramen?"

"Ramen?" he echoes. He sounds genuinely surprised. "I have to admit I've never had it."

_Oh? _I don't know why, but this makes me smile with anticipation. "Well, there's a ramen place on Fairchild Ln. It's quite small, but it's delicious. And, luckily, they stay open between 2 and 5."

"Is that unusual?" I imagine him raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, actually. Most ramen shops close during that time in order to prepare their dinner dishes. Um, if you're willing to keep an open mind, can we go there?" I bite my lip, silently praying he might touch my arm again. God, I hope so. _Oh, Jesus, I sound like a junkie._

"Consider my mind open," he teases. "I'll pick you up at the front of SAU shortly."

_Front of SAU? _I stare out the window. That's kind of A long walk, but I don't protest. "Okay, um, see you in a bit."

"Bye." I can hear his teasing smile.

I blush intensely, "Er, bye!"

He said yes. He wants to have lunch with me! Me! I glance down at my clothes. I'm wearing my Converse instead of my boots, and I don't have any make-up on. _No. Stop. It's just a simply lunch. Nothing fancy. _I shake away my self-conscious thoughts and settle for fixing my frizzy bun. I grab my bag and empty it of all my sketching tools. No need to bring them. A thought of Kira stops me before I grab the door handle. I write a quick note to her and make my way out of the dorms.

The wind is chillier than usual. I huddle against myself and shove my hands under my armpits, keeping them warm. I was not made for cold weather. "Hey, Emma!"

_Shit! _I keep walking.

"Hey! Emma!"

A dark haired boy runs around in front of me, blocking my path. I let my annoyance show and step back a few feet. "Hi, Matt."

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" he huffs with a playful smile.

His smile unnerves me and I turn my head away from him, searching the front of the school for the black Escalade. "I, uh, I have to go meet someone."

Matt's eyes drift down my body and I want to throw up. His blue eyes are full of disgusting lust and his intentions have been clear since I first met him. "Is it cool if I tag along with you?"

I snap my eyes to him and frown. "I don't think _he _would be okay with that."

"_He_?" He raises his eyebrows in surprise. "You're meeting a guy? A guy?"

"Yes, Matt, I am." I shift from foot to foot uncomfortably. Glancing at the front of the school, I see a Escalade pull up. I hope it's _the _Escalade. "Look, I gotta go."

I motion to step around him, but Matt shoots his hand out to block me. I realize he hopes I physically run into his arm, but I pause and take two steps back. My heart pounds a little faster, fear seeping into my chilled bones. Matt holds his hand up defensively. "Relax, Emma. I wasn't going to touch you." He laughs lightly, but I don't lower my guard. "How about you come to this party with me this Saturday? It's a small party. We could talk. You know, hang out?"

Before I can refuse, my cell phone rings. I nearly melt with relief and quickly answer not caring who it is. "Hello?!"

"Miss Ventura, I'm in front of the university," Mr. Hale informs cautiously. "Are you alright?"

"Uh, no-I mean, yes! I mean...I'm on my way." I grumble and hang up. I walk five-feet around Matt, glaring at him as I do. He watches me walk away with curiosity and disappointment.

Mr. Hale is standing outside of the Escalade with his hands in his coat pockets. He's not wearing a suit. Jeans, boots, and a leather coat. He looks incredible. As I slowly approach, I feel ashamed and embarrassed as if he saw my unintentional interaction with Matt. Mr. Hale furs his eyebrows and doesn't take his eyes off me as I stop a couple feet in front of him. "You sounded uneasy. Are you sick?"

_Of Matt. _I clear my throat and shake my head. "No, I just had an unpleasant conversation...and I'm starving."

His eyes scan my from head to toe. But, unlike Matt, he does so out of concern. Finally, he says, "I'm starving, too. Get in."

He stands aside and lets me climb in. Once I sit, he leans his head in. "Buckle up."

I frown as he closes the door. _I'm not a child._ He slides in on the other side and Boyd steers gracefully into the flow of traffic. The vehicle is awkwardly quiet and I fidget in my seat. _What should I say? _Apprehension paralyzes me as dozens of questions run through my mind. What the heck are we gonna talk about? I invited him to lunch. I should say something. Mr. Hale's voice startles me out of my misery. "I know I said my mind would be open, but what can I expect from this ramen place? What is ramen?"

"Japanese noodle soup," I say bluntly.

He quirks an eyebrow at me. "We're going to eat noodle soup?"

"It won't have chicken in it," I say meekly.

Mr. Hale throws his head back as he laughs. I stare at him, utterly stunned. Boyd casually glances at us in the rearview mirror. Mr. Hale covers his mouth to stifle his chuckles. "I apologize, Miss Ventura. I've had quite a difficult day."

"I'm...glad I could lighten your mood," I smile. His eyes fall on me and his grin widens at the sight of mine.

"I like it when you smile." He reaches over and places his hand on my arm. I welcome that strange feeling in my gut as it blooms. _I want him to touch my skin._

Regrettably, we arrive in front of the small ramen shop. Mr. Hale's hand slips off mine as he exits the car., and the strange feeling is gone. Bashfully, I wait for him to walk around to the other side. With a polite smile, he opens it for me. He holds his hand out to help me down. I stare at it for a moment. The gesture makes me very, very nervous. I can feel my phobia stirring beneath my chest. I inhale sharply and place my hand in his. His fingers curl around mine and I step out onto the asphalt. Mr. Hale turns to Boyd, "I'll call you."

Boyd nods and leaves. Still holding my hand, Mr. Hale leads me into the ramen shop. My cheeks radiate heat as I stare at our clasped hands. _It doesn't burn. His touch doesn't burn! _This revelation makes me giddy and I smile. I worry for a moment that he's going to let go of me, but Sarah, the hostess, opens the door for us. She smiles politely at me, but her eyes linger on Mr. Hale. He doesn't seem to acknowledge her as we step inside.

It's not relatively busy. The bar has a few single eaters, and some of the tables are full. The shop can only seat 38 people, no more. On busy nights, I often wish they'd buy the postal office next door to expand. A waiter I don't recognize greets us with a bright smile. "Welcome, party of two?"

"Yes," Mr. Hale replies.

"Alright, there's a table by the window you can sit at." He gestures behind us. Beyond the high table, there's two small tables pushed up against the wall. But, there's enough space to have private conversations. The waiter hands us a stand with a laminate paper at the top reading: _25_. "This is your number. Have you been here before?"

Mr. Hale hesitates and glances down at me. I nod at the waiter. "Great," he beams. "Here's a menu."

Mr. Hale takes the laminate paper and frowns at it. "What is this?" he asks as we shuffle into the line.

"_Chashu_. It's pork belly," I inform. I watch him study the rest of the menu, his frown deepening as his eyes scan down. "So, this place only has five ramen options. The original, original with soy sauce, miso ramen, and dipping ramen. There's also veggie ramen, but that's only available on Sundays."

"I'll just have whatever you have," he states.

_The original, then. _Jack appears from behind the high counter. "Hey, Emma. Want anything to drink?"

"Water, please."

"And you, sir?"

Mr. Hale quickly scans the empty drink options laid out on the counter. "A water is fine."

Jack smiles and disappears. He returns and presents us with small glasses of ice water. Mr. Hale turns to glass in his hand, "I expected bottled water."

"You have to tell them that," I inform, realizing he meant the display of the cheap plastic water bottle. "This is just regular ice water. It's free."

"Hmm." He takes a sip then glances around at the tables. He looks...lost. And, he's still holding my hand. I am attentively aware of how _comfortable _I feel. _I'm standing in a ramen shop and Derek Hale is holding my hand. He's holding my hand! _The trio in front of us leaves the register. The young cashier smiles brightly. I notice a blush on her cheeks as she stares at Mr. Hale. "Hi, what can I get for you?"

Mr. Hale opens his mouth then quickly closes it, and turns to me. I suppress a blush and place my hand on the counter. It's level with my collarbone. "Two originals please."

"Any extra toppings for you? A side, perhaps?"

I shake my head. The cashier taps away at her tablet. "Two originals. And water? Okay, that'll be eighteen-ninety-five, please."

Instinctively, I reach for my wallet. Mr. Hale swiftly releases my hand and pulls out a sleek black card. The cashier's eyes widen at the sight of the card, but I don't know why. She hands him his card back and a receipt to sign. I sheepishly smile at Mr. Hale. "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure, Miss Ventura," he says with a smirk. His hand curls around mine once more, and my heart flip-flops in my chest. He leads me to our assigned table. The stools are square and very tall. I have to climb to sit up on them. I watch as Mr. Hale settles on his stool. He fidgets slightly then finally relaxes. "Do you ever eat at small restaurants?"

"No," he admits.

I grab two sets of chopsticks out of the bin on the table and set one on his side and mine. In a smaller bucket, is spoons for tasting the broths. I set a spoon down in front of him and blinks at me. Silently, he takes his chopsticks and picks at the ends of them. I frown at him. "Haven't you used chopsticks before?"

"Obviously not." He's annoyed, but I find it funny.

"Watch," I say and break mine apart. He glances from me to the chopsticks then back to me. Then, he breaks his. "See? Not that hard."

"I suspect that hard part comes when I actually have to use them," he says wryly.

As if on cue, Jack approaches our table with two steaming bowls of ramen. "Two originals." He sets each one down carefully then takes our table number, leaving us alone with our intoxicating food.

The smell makes my mouth water. I use my chopsticks to mix the broth with the garlic oil, destroying the beauty of it. I glance at Mr. Hale and see that he's copying my movements, and that's he holding his chopsticks awkwardly. "No, you gotta hold it like this." I raise my hand to show him.

He gives me a determined frown and tries to adjust his fingers. _No, that's still wrong_. He stares at me, silently wondering if he's holding them right. I stare nervously at his hand. I can feel my phobia scratching, warning, begging me not to. I swallow it away despite my mouth being dry. I set my chopsticks down and reach across the table with both hands. "Move your finger here...and hold it there."

Each little touch sends shocks down my fingertips. Not painful like I expect, but heart-racing. It terrifies me, and I struggle to remain calm. Once he's holding it right, I quickly withdraw my hands. Underneath the table, I furiously rub my hands against my thighs. Palms and backs of my hands. _Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! _I was so close. So close to having A normal physical interaction. _Why can't I touch him? _My phobia doesn't answer and Kira's warning comes to mind. I'm pushing myself.

Amazingly, Mr. Hale manages to pick up the noodles easily. I watch him slurp. The ends of the noodles slap his bottom lip and he rubs the broth off with his thumb. My nostrils flare in excitement and I turn my attention to my food. Distracting myself with my own begging stomach. I hear Mr. Hale slurp again. "This is...really good. I'm very impressed."

"Aren't you glad you kept your mind open?" I ask.

"Very. I wonder, what would you have suggested if I had said no to this place?"

I bite my lip and shrug. "I don't know. I really wanted ramen."

He smirks at me, "What else do you like?"

"To eat?" I ask, pausing with a mouthful of noodles dangling above my bowl.

"Yes."

I lower my hand in thought. "Mostly Italian food is what I like best. Ramen is my second favorite."

"You have a list?"

I shrug. His gaze holds me and I know I'm blushing. "Er, sort of. It was a short list, but it has expanded exponentially since I moved here."

"Where are you from?" he asks, genuinely interested.

"Mexico City," I say flatly.

He pauses, mildly shocked. "That's a pretty far move."

"The SAU international student program is wonderful. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for the program," I explain.

"Then, I am thankful for it. Otherwise, we wouldn't have met."

_Did he really just say that? _"You don't regret meeting a clumsy girl who literally bounced right off of you?"

"You're not that clumsy," he says with an encouraging smile. "And no, I don't regret it."

His statement makes me...happy. I smile bashfully and stuff my mouth with noodles. _I don't regret meeting you either. _I can't find any courage to voice this, but admitting it to myself is enough, for now. What has this man done to me? I only met him five days ago, and he's affecting me so...strangely. That unfamiliar feeling is back in my gut. _What the hell? He's not even touching me. Get a grip! _With my noodles, pork, and egg eaten, I set my chopsticks down. My ramen craving has been satisfied.

Mr. Hale sighs in satisfaction. "I will definitely be coming back."

_Oh? _I wonder if he means with me. "Trust me, you'll develop a craving for it."

He glances at his watch and frowns. "Damn. It's almost 3."

I bite my lip. "Oh."

"I can cancel my meeting if you'd like to spend some more time together." He doesn't say it as a suggestion.

"I have to be at work at 4, anyways, so...," I shrug apologetically.

He nods, disappointment gleaming in his eyes. "Well, I will give credit where it is due. You have an excellent taste in food."

"Thank you," I murmur.

"I'll take you back. I don't want you to be late for work." He slides off the stool. He doesn't have far to fall, maybe four inches or so. Me? I got a whole two feet. Without any warning at all, he gently grabs my hand and leads me outside. My throat clenches. _Be brave. Be brave. Be brave. _Surprisingly, Boyd pulls up to the curb. Was he waiting in a parking spot for us this whole time or something?

Mr. Hale holds the door open for me and I slip inside. I watch Boyd follow Mr. Hale around the car. They pause by the driver door and talk. Uneasiness settles on me the longer they talk. Finally, they shake hands. Mr. Hale slips into the seat beside me and Boyd peels out of the parking lot. A phone rings and Mr. Hale exhales irritably as he answers his cell. "This is Hale...no...why not?"

I glance down at my fidgeting nails, then stare out the window. I'm grateful Mr. Hale picked me up. I don't like taking long walks during winter. "Damn it, Christine...I don't care. Get it done. You-!" He growls and hangs up. From where I sit, I stare at him like a curious, timid child. He glares out the window and leans his arm on the door, rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb. I inhale sharply and turn my eyes away. I really wish he would stop doing that.

In no time, we pull up in front of the school. I stare at it sullenly. I don't wanna step back into the real world. Mr. Hale slips out of the car and is at my door in a heartbeat. He takes my hand and helps me out. "Miss Ventura, I had a wonderful time."

I chew the inside of my lip and glance down, my thoughts making my shy.

"Look at me," he says softly. I do. "Did you have not enjoy lunch with me?"

I flush at his worried expression. "Yes, Mr. Hale, I did. I...um..."

"What is it?"

"I have a request."

His furred brow relaxes. "Yes?"

"Will you call me by my first name?" Damn, I am getting terribly bold.

His eyes lighten and he tilts his head to the side. "You want me to?"

I nod. A playful smirk spreads onto his lips. "Very well. I will...if you call me by mine. Will you?"

"I will," I promise. I tilts his left ear towards me, waiting. "Derek," I add.

I'm blushing uncontrollably now. Saying his name is so, so...personal and intimate.

"I don't want you to be late, so I'll go," he says. "Boyd will pick you up tomorrow after your shift ends. I'll see you tomorrow, Emma."

I don't think my face can get any redder. "Um, okay. Bye."

He grins, "Bye."

He stares at me for a moment, his eyes darkening like they did yesterday. I still don't understand that look he gives me. I walk around him towards the school. Our eyes don't leave each other as I make my way to the stairs. I turn my attention to safely making my way up to the sidewalk that'll lead me to the dorms. I sneak a glance back, he's still watching. I nearly yelp and quicken my pace.

**...**

I pause in front of my dorm door, and steady my breathing. As I turn the handle, the door swings open and I jump. Kira stares at me with extremely wide eyes. "Emma! Get in here!"

She grabs the label of my coat and tugs me inside, slamming the door closed. "Kira! What the hell...?"

Her stare stuns me silent. She points to my bed, "Explain that."

I frown at her and follow the direction of her finger. On my bed is a single white rose. _What? Oh, please, don't tell me it's from Matt. _This wouldn't be the first time. Dreadfully, I pick it up. Underneath the flower is a small white card:

_Have a wonderful Valentine's Day, Emma._

_I look forward to seeing you again._

_-D_

I am so stunned that I nearly drop the flower. Today is Valentine's Day. I completely forgot. Is that what he thought the lunch was about? Wait...this was delivered after I left. Perhaps, he always intended to send it? My mind flutters to the moment when Mr. Hal...Derek talked with Boyd privately. No...ugh, this is confusing. "Emma!"

I turn my shocked face to Kira. She stares at me, furious with apprehension. "Why did Derek Hale send you this?"

"I don't...know. I mean, I had lunch with him today."

"That's where you were?" She raises an eyebrow at me, holding up my note. "Your note was very vague and I worried. He asked you to lunch on Valentine's Day?"

"No, I did. But, I forgot it was today." I scratch the corner of my eyebrow. I hadn't intended it to mean more. But, did he take it as such? I'm worried now. I don't know where this will lead. And, I feel...conflicted about finding out. I twirl the flower in my hand and hold it up to my nose. For some reason, the rose's natural perfume smells sweet and loving. The smell of roses never caught my attention before. "He held my hand," I tell Kira.

Kira gapes at me. "And...you didn't...?"

I shake my head. I like it when he touches me. My hands, my arms. What has this man done to me?

**February 15...**

The elevator ride is smooth and long. I think of the white flower, now in a vase facing the sun, and smile. The doors open and Boyd walks me to the lobby. Anna smiles at me, "Good afternoon, Miss Ventura."

"Hi."

I enter Derek's office and stop in my tracks. Derek is standing near a table covered in my designs, and beside him, his a petite woman with her back to me. I notice that she is wearing a lovely deep blue dress and black heels. They're arguing. Derek sees me and he looks relieved and excited. "Emma."

The woman turns to look at me. She is stunningly, annoyingly attractive and young. Beautiful fair skin, dazzling emerald green eyes, and raven black hair that is swept into a bouncy ponytail. She turns back to Derek, "This is Emma Ventura?"

Derek's jaw shifts and he nods. The woman gasps and turns completely to face me. My eyes widen. The woman is heavily pregnant..._and in heels? _She claps her hands together and smiles. "Oh, my...it's wonderful to meet you, Miss Ventura!"

She walks over to me and I worry if she's going to extend her hand. She doesn't. She places her hands on her belly and beams at me. "I'm Christine Harmon. Derek showed me your designs. You are incredibly talented, my girl. I understand you're primarily working with Derek, but I must admit that I would love for you to design my house."

She talks so fast and excitedly that I can't really respond.

"Obviously, I'm due real soon, but I'm in no rush and neither is my husband-"

"Husband?" _Crap. _I'm being intrusive.

Miss-or, rather Mrs. Harmon's eyes light up. "Yes. My husband is Jordan Parrish. Have you heard of him?"

_O-kay. Miss Harmon, then? _"I'm sorry, I haven't. But, I recognize your name."

She smiles bashfully. "Well, thank you. Anyways, as I was saying-"

"Christine," Derek interrupts. "Emma and I have a meeting."

She narrows her eyes at him, but relents. "Fine. We'll talk about Brazil when I get back on Tuesday." She turns to me. "It was lovely to meet you, Miss Ventura. I do hope we see each other again."

I smile politely. She rubs her belly, and doesn't wait for Derek to escort her. She walks out briskly and effortlessly on those stiletto heels. Once the door closes, my eyes meet his. He shifts from foot to foot. He looks anxious. I take a timid step forward. "Um, thank you for the flower."

His shoulders relax. _He was nervous? _"You liked it?"

"Yes." I smile. My eyes shift to my drawings. "So, you showed...Miss Bertrand my designs?"

He sighs sharply. "She came here unexpectedly. We've been having difficulties with a liaison in Brazil. It's not going down as smoothly and she's going to Nice with her husband this weekend, so she's very anxious. She was being nosy."

"She seemed nice enough."

He shrugs. His hands are in his pockets. "She's unusually nice. Probably because she's pregnant."

I nod in agreement. I recall how tame my mother was during her pregnancies with my brothers. Old memories threaten to resurface, and I quickly shake them off. Derek points his chin towards the couch. "Sit down. Do you want some water?"

"Yes, please." I plop down on the couch. I'm prepared for it's plumpness. Derek sits beside me and hands me the ice water. Our fingers brush and I inwardly gasp. I can hear my phobia screaming at me. To silence it, I shove my hand underneath my thigh.

"Emma," Derek says eagerly. "Your commercial work seems to be where you excel at. I have a few projects that are being shoved to the side due to the limited availability of my time. However, there is a local project."

"It's not at the school, is it?" I dread.

"No," he assures me. "But, it is for a school. Beacon Hills High School is looking to create an entire new wing for their band and science classes."

I take a large gulp of water. It's really happening. "And they don't mind that I'm an undergrad?"

"No. I'm going to schedule a walk of the school next week for you. I'll accompany you, of course."

_Holy shit! _This is it. There's no backing down, now. I pause for a moment. "Wait, why are you working on a public high school?"

"My company gives dozens of grants to the surrounding school districts. Every child deserves a chance at a proper education," he says sincerely. He glances at the wolf painting. "My mother firmly believed in giving back to the less fortunate. I strive to live up to her beliefs."

I stare down at my glass. My self-conscious thoughts come bubbling back to the surface. Unable to bear the proximity, I stand abruptly. I can feel his eyes on me as I walk over to the window. The view nearly makes my head spin. The city skyline is indescribable. I feel as if I'm walking amongst the clouds. "I have to ask. Once more," I tell him. It sounds like a plea, coming out of my mouth. "Why me?"

In the reflection in the window, I see him stand and approach me. "I stand by my claims, Emma. You have a God-given talent. I believe it would be a sheer waste to wait another year for this. And even as an intern, you won't be designing anything for clients. It'll be another two years before you can do so. Trust me, I know a lot of architects and interior designers. Their stories are all the same." He's standing dangerously close. I can feel his body heat on my back. "Honestly, I don't believe in fate. I did not expect to meet you. And, I know you didn't, either."

Slowly, I turn to face him, wary and nervous.

"Believe me, Emma. We would not be here if I thought your designs were mediocre." His eyes soften as he gazes at me. "I've said it twice, now. So, I'll say it again. You're a beautiful, talented woman, Emma. I enjoy your company."

The softness of his tone and his expression is gone. His eyes darken and my heart skips a beat in a mix of fear and excitement. I can tell he's apprehensive, impatient. I swallow and my mouth goes dry. "I enjoy your company, too."

He doesn't smile. He studies my face. Studying my sincerity, I suspect. He reaches up and touches my hair, his finger tips grazing my cheek. I recoil instinctively and violently slam my back against the window. My glass slips from my hand, but I don't hear it shatter. Derek frowns at me, confused. My ears start to ring and I begin to hyperventilate. _No! Please, no! _My phobia slithers up my body, grabbing a hold of me and suddenly, I can't see straight. _No! NO! Stop! STOP!_

Derek's hand still hovers in the air, "Emma, I..."

I don't say anything.

I run.

* * *

**End of Chapter 3**

**Please review**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf and/or characters**

**Rated M for sexuality, language, and violence**

**Enjoy**

* * *

**February 15...**

I burst through the doors of Derek's office and vaguely hear him call my name. Anna says something as well, but I ignore her. _Hide! Hide! Run! Hide! _I halt in the elevator hallway. The elevator won't be fast enough. I zero in on the women's restroom and throw the door open. Inside, I sprint to the farthest stall and lock myself in. I slide down to the cold, tile floor and heave uncontrollably. My face prickles and my phobia commands my body. I rub my cheek, hard and desperate to remove his touch. _Stop! _I will myself, but my body refuses to listen. _Stop it! No! NO! _Using my other hand, I grab my wrist and force it down. I glare at it and my vision becomes blurred by tears. _He'll see, now...what I am. Fuck!_

The bathroom door creaks open. "Emma?"

I gasp. It's Derek. My phobia loosens its hold over me and I manage to say, "I'm in here."

I hear his footsteps approach the stall I'm in. I see his shoes from under the stall door, but he doesn't say anything. _I don't want to face him_. I groan cowardly. I sniffle as I get up, rubbing my face clear of tears. Reluctantly, I open the stall door. Derek gazes down at me with a wounded and concerned expression. "Emma, I...didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm sorry for being so forward."

His eyes ask me: _why did you run from me?_

I realize my fists are clenched tightly, and I squeeze them tighter, ignoring the bite of my nails in my palms. "Please, don't apologize. I just wasn't expecting it. It's not you, I swear. It's me."

"But, why did you...?" he shakes his head, unable to finish his question. His eyes search mine for answers.

"I'm haphephobic," I blurt out. My lungs freeze and so does my heart. _He'll see, now._

Derek frowns quizzically, "Half-a-what?"

"_Haphe_phobic," I repeat. Why isn't he looking at me like I'm crazy? Everyone does when I tell them. He's still staring at me, not understanding. I finally exhale. "It means a fear of being touched."

He raises his eyebrows in surprise. His eyes scan me from my head downwards, but he stops at my arms. "But, I was able to touch you before."

I shrug helplessly. "I don't know how to explain it. I never, ever let people touch me...no matter what. But, you...I don't mind."

His eyes flick to my hair. "You recoiled from me."

I feel an urge to rub my cheek again. It feels hot and raw. "I-I really don't know. When we first met, you touched my hand and my arm. Then, you touched my bare skin...normally, this is how I would react. But, I didn't. I feel...different when you touch me."

"Different how?" he asks, curious and cautious.

"I don't know. I've never wanted someone to touch me before." _Especially, a man. _I press my fists against my belly. This conversation is not heading in the direction that I thought it would, and I don't know what to do.

He steps a little closer and, bravely, I don't move. He RAISES his hands and they hover over my arms. "I can touch your arms and your hands?"

"Arms, yes," I nod and ease my fists away from my knotted gut. "Hands...mainly yes."

"Mainly?" he asks worriedly.

"I...still feel skittish about it," I admit.

"Your arms, then." Tentatively, he places his hands on my arms. I sigh with relief. No recoil. No fear. "I can touch your arms...and your hands."

Gently, he glides his hands down to my fists, and there's a tiny flicker of the strange feeling in my gut. Is it fear? Is that what it is? I don't know. "...yes."

"Only your arms and hands." His gaze is intense and it makes my heart flutter. "You don't want me to touch you anywhere else?"

_I do, but I...can't handle it. _"For now," I whisper.

He lowers his gaze down to our hands. My fists are relaxed and he cups them gently. "I'm sorry I scared you."

"Please. Don't be. I just...I know there's no way you could've know, but if I had prepared myself then maybe..." I shrug.

"Why don't you like to be touched?"

_Shit, no! _I absolutely loathe this question. I don't like answering. No one truly understands. Except for Isaac. He didn't have to ask. He knew right away because it's nearly the same reason why he has haphephobia.

"It's...complicated." _I don't wanna tell you. _He'll see how truly fucked up I am.

"You don't want to tell me?"

Shyly, I lower my eyes and shake my head. He sighs and squeezes my hands gently. "Then I'll wait until you feel ready to tell."

I flick my eyes up at him. _What? I...why...wait...what? _I stare at him, unblinkingly. My thoughts turn sour and I purse my lips. "Don't feel obligated to. I'll understand."

"You think I'm taking pity on you?" He furs his brows and lets go of my hands. "I'm well aware that we barely know each other, but...from the moment you so spectacularly _bounced_ off of me-as you so graciously put it...I felt an irrevocable compulsion to _know _you. I _want _to know you."

His hands are on my mine again, but I barely register my phobic panic. I am lost in his honest gaze. "And since I'm being so unusually honest, I might as well admit that I never, ever had a desire to know someone...ever."

"Never?" I breathe.

"Never."

"Why?"

He lowers his gaze and rubs his thumbs along my knuckles. I flinch, but don't remove my hands. "My reasons are complicated as well. I've kept everyone at arm's length. Especially, women."

_Oh? _"You want me at arm's length?"

"...no," he whispers. His hands slide up my arms to my elbows. I lean away, fighting my urge to recoil.

"Please, don't," I beg.

His hands return to my mine. "I'm sorry. I wanted to see where the boundary lines are. Just your hands and forearms."

I think for a brief moment about our confessions and I smile. "You want to know me, and I want you to touch me. But...we're stuck."

He snorts, "I suppose so. Though, I think this was a big step for both of us. Especially if we want this work."

Realization makes me blush suddenly. "Are we in a...relationship?"

He tilts his head and smiles at me, "I certainly hope so. Do you want to be in one? With me?"

"Um...," I stare at our hands. "Yes."

He slides his hands onto my arms. "I want to kiss you," he says, making my heart jump. "But, I won't. Not until I can. Not until you're ready. I want you to know that I do."

"Really?" I whisper.

"Yes. I especially wanted to kiss you yesterday when I dropped you off."

The strange feeling in my gut swirls, fluttering in my stomach. I slip my hands free and roll my sleeves up to my elbows. He raises an eyebrow at me questioningly. "I want you to touch me...my skin," I say. "Whenever people touch me, especially, my bare skin, it feels as if I'm being burned. Like, my skin is being flayed or I'm being smothered with hot coal. My sense of touch is incredibly sensitive."

"It doesn't burn when I touch you in your safe zones?"

_Safe zones? I've never thought about it that way._ "Um, no. When you touch me, it feels...different." I sigh through my nose to find the right way to explain. "It feels...like...tiny shocks of electricity. Like, each of my nerve endings are being individually electrified."

"That sounds worse." He purses his lips.

"It doesn't to me. I like it."

"You like being electrified?" he says, baffled.

I shrug apprehensively. "I told you, I've never wanted someone to touch me before. Feeling your fingertips on my skin is enough...for now."

He frowns at my arms then at me, studying me. Slowly, _painfully _slow, his fingers curls around my arm. I close my eyes. Yes, tiny jolts of exciting electricity shoot up my arm. His thumb moves along my radius bone. I can feel his body heat. I snap my eyes open and Derek's standing dangerously close to me. His eyes are full of desire and he's staring intently into my eyes. He swallows and his hands fall. "I should stop." He sees my argumentative expression. "I'll end up touching you in a danger zone."

_Damn my danger zones. _"Oh," I sigh and unroll my sleeves. "You're...right. Since I met you, I've been terribly bold and my phobia isn't ready to accept it."

He slips his hands into his pockets and my shoulders slump. "We've been in here for awhile. I'm sure Anna is livid."

Oh. Right. We're in the women's bathroom. I flush at this and glance at him sheepishly. "I can't believe you followed me in here."

"Well, you did run from me. I had to chase you," he says playfully. "Shall we return to my office?"

"Unfortunately," I say and smile.

He quirks and eyebrow and mirrors my smile. "Unfortunately."

**...**

"I'll pick you up tomorrow at seven. It's quite a long drive to the hotel," Derek says, rubbing my forearm as we stand outside his Escalade.

"What?" I squeak.

"The charity event. It's tomorrow, or did you forget?"

_Fuck. _"Yes, I did. Seven is fine. I don't have class or work."

"Do you work Saturday?"

"No."

He nods as he considers this. He slides a finger under my sleeve and touches my wrist. I swallow at the sudden jolt of touch, and he smiles. "Bye."

"Bye."

For the first time in my entire life, I _want _to be kissed. I want him to kiss me. This foreign desire scares the living shit out of me. My phobia propels me to walk slowly back to my dorm. Derek watches me until I'm out of sight. A week ago, I was quiet, and untouched. I feel like a changed person. I laugh at myself. Fate is a fickle thing. I silently thank the wolf painting on the twentieth floor of Derek's building. Otherwise, I wouldn't be here, giggling like a teenager and Derek wouldn't want to kiss me.

Kira does a double take as she watches me walk in. "I take it the meeting went good."

"Uh, you can say that." I fidget with my hair.

"...Emma," Kira scolds me in a "you better spill your guts" way.

"Um, well, a lot happened, but long story short: we're in a relationship now...?"

"What?!"

"Don't scream at me."

"You met him a week ago!"

"Hey, you and Scott became a couple after one day!" I yell back.

Kira blushes and snaps her mouth closed. Then she abruptly says, "Did he kiss you?"

"No," I assure her. "But he said he wanted to."

"But, he didn't?"

"No. He said he wouldn't do so until I'm ready for him to."

"Whoa," Kira's eyes widen and she gives me a strange look. "That's...considerate."

I scowl at her. "Thank you, Kira. For being so happy that I am making progress with my phobia and letting a man that I like touch me."

She closes her eyes and sighs. "I'm sorry, Emma. You're my friend and I worry about you. I care about you."

"I know," I say. "And, I told him. About my haphephobia."

She leaks back in surprise, "Damn, you must really like this guy. I mean, yeah, Derek Hale is inhumanly gorgeous and I know you're not the gold-digger type, but...I'm happy for you, Emma. I really am."

She stands up and walks to my side. Instinctively, I have my arms folded under my chest. Kira slides her hand across my shoulders and hugs me. I'm really thankful for her. For her understanding of my phobia. The research she did, and opening me up to this kind of contact. "Thanks, Kira."

**...**

My buzzing phone wakes me from empty dream. There was nothing, only darkness, and it was peaceful. I glance at the screen and frown. "Hello?"

"Hey, Emma...were you asleep?" It's Isaac.

"Um, yeah...I sleep in when I can." I clear my throat. "What is it?"

"Did you need a ride to the event? Lydia and Jackson are joining me and Allison. You're more than welcome to come with us."

"Oh. Thanks, Isaac, but I'm going with someone and he's picking me up." As I say this, I blush.

"You have a boyfriend?"

I frown at his dubious tone. "Um, yeah...at least, I think he is. Okay, I have a ride. Don't worry about it."

"Uh, okay. I can't wait to meet him," he says with a snicker.

"Ugh," I huff and hang up. I toss the phone on the nightstand and plop down, hugging my pillow. I jerk my head back up and take a look at the time. It's after 3. I gasp and throw the covers off my body. Kira is gone, but I notice a dress laid out on her bed. I freeze. I'm going to the event with Derek. And my friends are gonna be there. _Shit. _They faun enough over me as it is. Especially Lydia.

I pull out a formal dress from the very back of my closet. There's still a tag on it. Another gift from my mother. It's a simple, deep red strapless dress. The top of it hugs my body, accenting my hourglass figure. The exposure of my chest and back makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I use foundation to even out the skin of my chest, covering the old scars. My mother purposefully bought this to expose my skin. So, I bought a semi-sheer shawl that matches the dress. It helps to cover my back. No one should be able to see my scars unless they really stare. I twist the top half of my hair into a knot and secure it with a silver pin, leaving the rest of my hair to flow down my back.

The chocolate-eyed girl that stares back at me in the mirror regards me sadly. Dressed up like this with make-up heavier than I'm used to and dangling jewelry, I look like my mother. I just need a glass of scotch to completely the look. Kira entering the dorm snaps me from my thoughts. "Kira? You should hurry. It's almost seven."

"I'm not going!"

I poke my head out of the bathroom. Kira is lying face first on her bed and her dress is crumpled on the floor. "Why not?"

"Scott got called to work."

"So?"

"_So_? He was the only reason I was going in the first place. I don't wanna stand there awkwardly at _his _ex-girlfriend's family's thing. No! I won't do it."

"You can stand with me and Derek...," my voice trails off as I realize how ridiculous that sounds. Kira frowns in disgust and turns her head away. "No. You look amazing, by the way."

I smile at her sullen back. My phone buzzes. It's Derek. "Hi," I whisper with a smile.

"Hello, Emma. I'm standing outside your dorm building."

"What?" I gasp. I run to the window, but I don't see him down below.

"I'm on my way down." I hang up and grab my coat and silver clutch purse. I pause and realize Kira is staring at me with one eye. The rest of her face is buried in her pillow. I glare at her as I walk out the door, not breaking eye contact until the door blocks her from my vision.

Derek is waiting by the doors, inside. I frown as I approach him. "How'd you get in here?"

"A nice girl named Sally let me in," he explains and my frown deepens. "It's cold out there."

"It's always cold," I snip.

"It's exceptionally cold today," he says, noticing my tone. "Does cold weather irritate you?"

_Uh, that's not why I'm frowning, but... _"Yes. I wasn't built for winter."

"So, no cuddling for warmth, then?"

I stare at him, wide-eyed like a rabbit. "I thought so," he says then holds out his elbow. "Can you hold onto my arm, at least?"

_I think so. _I nod and carefully slip my arm around his. "By the way, you look stunning."

A big smile spreads on my face as we walk out of the dorms to the... "A limo?"

"This is a formal event. Formal events call for limos," he says matter-of-factually.

"I'll...take your word for it."

There are no seat belts inside, and the seats are easy to slide around on. I'm tempted to slide all the way around the limo just to see if I can. Derek grabs my hand once he's inside. Boyd is in the driver's seat, but he's so far away. A dark-tinted window closes and Derek and I are alone. Eagerness gets the best of me. "My friends are gonna be there."

"They are?"

"Yes. Allison has a tight social circle, and she invited everyone. Kira, my roommate, and her boyfriend are the only ones not going, I think."

"I don't have to meet them, if that makes you uncomfortable," he says softly.

"Um...it makes me nervous, but...what do I call you?"

"Derek."

"That's gonna earn me some odd looks. 'Hi, guys. This is my Derek, Derek Hale'. Yeah. Awesome."

He smiles wickedly and his eyes darken. "You're asking if you can call me your boyfriend?"

I nod curtly.

"As long as I can introduce you as my girlfriend."

I blush, but nod again. I dig the sharp heel of my shoe in the carpeted floor. "Also, before we get there, I wanna...try something."

"Define something," he encourages.

I scoot up to the edge of my seat. "Put your hand here," I point to my shoulder. "Then slide it over here. But slowly. Very slowly, so that I can get used to it."

"You won't recoil?"

"I don't think so," I shrug apologetically. "Kira does it when she wants to hug me, and it's worked out so far."

He frowns at me with pursed lips. "I thought no one touches you, and now, you're telling me your roommate can hug you?"

"It's barely a side hug," I quickly explain. "And I have to tuck my arms under my chest in order for her to do so. Otherwise, she doesn't touch me."

"I see." Anticipation flares in his eyes. He raises his hand and it hovers over me. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I want to you to touch my back..because, you know...you're my boyfriend." I clasp my fingers together in eagerness.

Derek watches me as he gently places his hand on my shoulder. I gasp involuntarily, but manage not to flinch. He moves his hand slowly, slower than Kira, across my back to my other shoulder. I turn my head to see his fingers on my clothed shoulder, checking to make sure he's not going down my arm to trap me. I take a steady breath. No recoil. No fear. "Okay. Can you slide it back and do it again?"

Happily, he complies.

**...**

Upon arriving at the hotel, Derek's hand stays on the middle of my upper back and my hands are relaxed. A hotel staff member opens the door and Derek slides out first. The moment I step onto the road, I am blinded by camera flashes. Derek takes my coat and pauses to admire my dress and form. "You really are beautiful."

My face nearly matches the color of my dress. I wrap my shawl around my shoulders to fight off the cold. Derek throws our coats into the limo, then, sliding his hand onto my back, leads me up the stairs. The hotel is bustling with noise and the smell of food. A tall, white-haired man approaches us and shakes Derek's hand. "Derek! It's wonderful to see you."

"Gerard," Derek greets curtly.

"And who is this lovely thing?" he asks, turning his wry smile to me.

"This is my girlfriend, Emma Ventura."

I keep my hands tightly clasped around my clutch purse. Gerard seemingly picks up on my shyness, and simply smiles. "Well, it's lovely to meet you, Miss Ventura. Enjoy the party."

"Thank you," I say.

We continue on and are greeted by a handsome man that looks very similar to Gerard. I recognize him immediately. He has a charming smile and greets Derek in a businesslike way. "Good to see you, Derek."

"Same here, Chris." Their handshake is firm. "Is Kate here?"

_Kate?_

"No, she's in Barcelona with her current arm candy," Chris says without a trace of humor in his voice.

Derek nods. He looks relieved. Chris turns his light-colored eyes to me. "And this is yours?" _  
_

_Excuse me?!_

Derek inhales sharply. "Chris. This is my girlfriend, Emma Ventura."

Chris mouths "oh" nonchalantly. He smiles at me, "Forgive my rudeness, Miss Ventura." He tilts his head and regards me curiously. "Are you a student?"

"Yes."

"Ah. My daughter is as well."

"I know, Mr. Argent. I'm a friend of hers. We've met several times before."

He freezes, stunned and embarrassed. Derek smirks and leads me away. Once we're out of earshot, I look at Derek. "Who's Kate?"

"She's not important," he says icily.

His tone makes me want to curl inwardly like a child who's been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. A few more people come up to us to say hi. I keep my hands on my purse and ignore their outstretched hands. I don't care that they regard my rudely. A waiter whisks by and Derek grabs two glasses off the tray. The glasses are tall and thin. He holds one out to me. "Here."

"Derek, I can't drink."

"I know, but it'll keep your hands full."

I smile softly, blushing at his generosity. I take the glass. The liquid sparkles inside the crystal class and I see bubbles float to the top, and pop. I feel a tiny temptation to drink it. Derek returns his hand onto my back and I vaguely notice that his hand is resting right in the middle of my spine. "Emma!" a girly voice squeals.

I whip my head towards the tables. Lydia is waving her arm furiously, desperate to get my attention. I use my purse to wave at her. Lydia is looks gorgeous as she always does. Her strawberry blond hair is piled on top of her hair with a few tendrils spiraling around her neck. She's standing next to a table that sits her boyfriend, Jackson, Isaac, and Allison. _Oh, no. _I don't know if I'm ready to face the inquisition.

I turn to Derek, "I'm really nervous. I think I'm gonna throw up."

"I'll take you to the bathroom," he says warmly.

_Good. _I'm not ready to face-

"Emma!"

Lydia's voice is closer. _Damn it, Lydia!_

We stop as Lydia approaches. Her green eyes are wide with excitement and disbelief. "Emma, it's wonderful to see you. Allison's really glad you came."

I look past her and see Allison watching us despite Isaac talking to her. She's staring curiously, but she looks relieved for some reason. I see her eyes snap to Isaac and she frowns. Lydia snatches my attention by saying, "Pardon my rudeness, sir. You are?"

"Derek Hale," he says.

Lydia's wide-eyed gaze turns to me then to Derek, then back to me. "Well, how did you two meet?" she asks with a nosy smile.

"I bumped into him," I say. "Literally."

She nods slowly and presses her plump lips together. She's quiet. That can't be good. "How long have you been together?"

"Um, Lydia...," I struggle to find the right words to tell her to go away without hurting her feelings.

"I think it's time for a dance," Derek says, surprising us both. He takes my drink from me and hands it and his to Lydia who takes them without question. His hand slips onto mine and he leads me silently to the dance floor. Couples are embraced in a slow rhythmic dance all over the place. There's a lot of couples dancing. The possible proximity makes my phobia stir and my skin prickles. Derek adjusts his hold of my hand as he turns to face me. "Can you dance?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to?"

I swallow my nerves. "Yes."

He smiles, bemused, and his other hand rests on the middle of my back, sending exciting chills all over my body. Timidly, I place my other hand on his shoulder. I press my clutch purse gently against him. The music changes into a sultry, loving tone. "_I put a spell on you!_" the female voice sings.

I know this song. Derek moves with music and I do as well. His eyes don't leave mine. Despite the blush creeping all over my face, I don't take my eyes off him. I love the black heels my mother bought me. They shorten the height difference between us by five inches. My eyes are level with his chin.

Unexpectedly, Derek twirls us in a quick circle. I'm amazed I didn't step on his feet. I glance back at where we were for a moment. I can see Mr. Argent dancing with his wife. His eyes flick to us before returning to his wife. I suddenly feel Derek's thumb graze the top of my dress, my sheer shawl between my skin and his. No recoil. No fear. The song makes my head feel fuzzy, and so does the look in Derek's eyes.

I haven't danced in nearly 8 years. The little space between us excites me. Mostly because it's him being so close to me, but also because my phobia is quiet.

_"I put a spell on you."_

Derek's smile grows until his teeth are bared.

_"I don't care if you don't want me. I'm yours, right now."_

That lyric summons the strange feeling in my gut. It swirls and swirls inside, and I bite my lip. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asks.

My press my lips together, shy and blushing. I feel bold. Hesitantly, I slip my hand out of his and place it in the curve where his neck and shoulder meet. I also move my other hand closer to his neck. Derek studies me intently and carefully places his empty hand on my back. His smile is gone, but he gazes at me adoringly. _He wants to touch me. _I realize. _This man wants to be near me. With me. I want to be with him, too. __  
_

A tap on my arm forcibly breaks my serenity. I jump in Derek's arms and whirl my head towards the person who touched me. An attractive man eyes me warily and smiles. He's _very _attractive, eerily so. Derek's arms tense. "Peter. I thought you weren't coming."

"Why wouldn't I?" Peter shakes his head at Derek, baffled. Staring at them both, I realize they have similar features: same pale blue eyes and strong jaw. Only, Peter has chestnut brown hair, a flatter nose, and his forehead is bigger. "Aren't you going to introduce me?"

Derek takes one hand off me and turns to face Peter with an annoyed glare. "Emma, this my uncle, Peter Hale. Peter, this Emma Ventura, _my _girlfriend."

The subtle animosity in his voice makes me want to turn away from Peter. I stand so that my empty hand is hidden behind Derek, and hug my purse against my hip. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Hale."

A strange look flashes across Peter's face. He smiles and holds out his hand, "Call me, Peter, dear."

"Can we talk later?" Derek asks and takes his hand off my back to hold mine. "This is a charity event. I don't want to talk business with you."

Peter drops his hand and lazily rolls his eyes at Derek. "I didn't come here for business, either, Derek. Honestly, I came to here because you did. You hate these kinds of things, so I got curious. Came here to impress Miss Ventura, did we?"

"I asked him," I blurt out.

Peter purses his lips in curiosity. "Did you, now?"

"Yes," I say more confidently. "I'm a friend of Allison Argent. She invited me."

He nods in understanding. Before he can say something else, Gerard slaps his shoulder. "Peter! What a surprise!"

Derek swiftly walks off the dance floor with my trailing behind him. He doesn't stop until we're behind a few tables, out of sight. He scans the crowd, making sure we weren't followed. His uneasiness makes my heart sink. He's on edge. I open my purse to check the time on my phone. It's only 10. Dinner will probably be served in thirty or so minutes. I wonder if Derek's uncle will try to find us. "Do you wanna go?"

Derek glances at me distractedly. "Why?"

"You look uncomfortable. And, I am. So...do you wanna leave?"

"You're uncomfortable? Why didn't you tell me?" I have his full attention now.

"I was comfortable when we were dancing," I confess, then turn the tables. "Why didn't you tell me you hate formal events?"

"They're tedious and-why does that even matter?" He frowns at me, puzzled.

"If I had known, I wouldn't have invited you and we could've..." my voice trails off because I don't know how to finish my statement. What would we have done? _Oh. _Now, I remember. He had asked me to dinner.

"Don't feel disappointed. I hate these things, yes, but I don't hate you. I'm happy to be with you...wherever we are."

My breath hitches in my throat. "Can we go?"

"Of course. I'll call Boyd."

He gently squeezes my hand and leads the way through the maze of tables. He makes an extremely brief call on his cell phone. Outside, Boyd is already waiting. Derek takes my coat from Boyd and helps me shrug it on. A few paparazzi close in on the limo as Derek follows me into the limo. When the door shuts, I sigh with relief. Finally, some peace and quiet. Derek opens the dark-tinted window, "Boyd, we're taking Emma back to the dorms."

"Yes, sir."

"Uh..."

Derek looks at me, "What is it?"

"I'm hungry. Can we stop by McDonald's?"

He blinks at me then turns back to Boyd. "McDonald's, Boyd."

"Yes, sir."

Derek closed the window and sits back. I raise an eyebrow at him, "Have you had McDonald's before?"

"Yes," he says sternly.

"Have you actually been inside one?"

"No. Don't laugh at me."

I cover my mouth to stifle my giggles. "Sorry."

He stares at me with a soft smile. "I really want to kiss you."

I blink at him and swallow. Boldly, I scoot closer to him. I grab his wrists and place them on my back. His hands spread across my back. Suddenly, he lunges. Before he reach me, I press my hands against his collarbone. The sudden movement cause me to fall back on the seat and slide under him. I keep my elbows locked and Derek stares at me, wide-eyed in shock and disbelief. "Uh...," he swiftly moves off of me. "Emma, I...I'm sorry. I just..."

Without looking at him, I sit up and slide to the other side. My cover my mouth to hide my urge to bawl.

"Emma?"

"Take me back to the dorms," I whisper.

"I will after you've eaten something. Please, look at me."

"Take me home!" I snap.

I hear the WINDOW open. "Boyd, the university."

"Yes, sir."

**...**

As soon as the limo pulls up to the sidewalk, I throw the door open and march towards the stairs. "Emma!" I hear Derek call.

_Don't follow me. Please, don't. _I beg.

"Emma!" he yells angrily and grabs my hand.

I stop, but don't look at him. I'm afraid to. He grabs my arm and steps closer. "Emma, look at me."

He grabs my other arm and turns me towards him. I still keep my head turned away. His hand enters my field of vision and I GASP. I lean away from it and look up at him in shock. He lowers his hand, and he gazes at me desperately. "Don't run away from me. I'm sorry for what I tried to do. I let my feelings get in the way of yours. I won't do that again. I promise."

I frown at him, tears are blurring my perfect view of him. "I don't want you to promise that."

"Emma..."

"You deserve someone better." There, I finally said it. The moment he tried to kiss me I knew this wasn't going to work. He needs someone he can touch, hold, and kiss. Someone who isn't afraid. Someone who isn't fucked up and broken.

He lets go of me and throws his head back with a cry of exasperation. He turns from me and rubs his bottom lip with his thumb. I lower my gaze. _I'm never going to get better._

After what seems like forever, he turns his angry glare at me. "Come here."

I don't move.

"Now."

I take a few steps towards him. I realize he's holding his hand out. Timidly, I place mine in his. He brings my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles. I GASP and feel heat spread from my hand. He cradles my hand in both of his, completely engulfing it. He turns my hand over, exposing my palm and chastely kisses it. A more intense heat spreads across my chest. I can feel his stubble. It tickles my fingers, and the familiar shocks shoot up my arm. Derek takes my hand off his face and kisses my knuckles again before releasing me. I stare at my hand. _I touched him! _My phobia has gone quiet.

"I don't want to hear you say something like that again," he warns. He's still angry, and his gaze makes me squirm. "I'll call you tomorrow. Goodnight, Emma."

_Don't go! _I panic as he walks away. _Quick! Think of something. Something safe. _"Derek, walk me to my dorm house, please."

He halts and RAISES an eyebrow at me. He doesn't say anything but walks back over to me. Cautiously, he places his hand on my back and leads me back to my dorms. We walk in silence the front doors of the dorm house. I turn away from the keypad beside the door. "Bye," I whisper.

"Bye," he echoes.

His hand glides down to mine and his thumb rubs my knuckles, sending shivering jolts of electricity throughout my body. "It's me who doesn't deserve you," he whispers.

Then, he leaves.

* * *

**End of Chapter 4**

**Please review**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf and/or characters**

**Rated M for sexuality, language, and minor violence**

**Enjoy**

* * *

**February 17...**

"_Its me who doesn't deserve you._"

This one thought has kept me awake all night long. Sunlight peeks through the window, illuminating Kira's snoring form. Sighing, I turn to face the wall. My eyes fall on my arm. Curiously, I trace my finger along my radius bone, noticing the prickling sensation that arises. To quiet my phobia, I rub my arm furiously. I want to feel _his _hand on me. I want his touch. _Touch. _Exasperated, I roll onto my back. He's wrong. I'm nothing to desire. I'm broken. I'm defiled. _  
_

I gasp as I suddenly realize I'm touching the scars on my chest. _Damn it! _I can't even fucking touch myself without freaking out. How am I going to get anywhere with Derek? I jump as my phone begins buzzing on the nightstand. Kira grumbles something and turns away. I read the caller ID. _Derek. _Nervously, I answer. "Hi."

"Hi," he echoes. "You said you were off today."

"Um...yes, I am." I fidget with the edge of my blanket.

He's quiet for a long time. "Emma, I know we left things on a sour note, but I'd like to move forward with our relationship. That is...if you feel the same."

"I-I do," I say quickly.

"Good," he says coldly. "Do you work tomorrow?"

"Not until 2."

"Hm," he muses. Again, I imagine him rubbing his bottom lip with his thumb and I have to will the image from my mind. "I was hoping you would accompany me to New York."

"New...what?"

"New York," he repeats.

_What? _"For the day?"

"For the weekend." When I don't reply, he continues, "One night at St. Regis, and we'd fly back in time for your shift tomorrow. I promise."

_New York? Holy shit! Wait... _"Uh...," I'm at a loss for words. "Um, uh...i-is this for business?"

He sighs. "Yes and no. There is a dinner I have to attend tonight. Of course, I would like for you to accompany me."

I say...nothing. I don't know how to respond. One night in New York...with Derek! _Holy shit! _

"Emma?"

"I..." _What am I supposed to say?_

"I know this is asking a lot of you," he says warily. "I really do want this to work. I want you to come with me to New York. I want to spend the weekend with you, even though it's only one night. However, I won't pressure you to do anything you don't want to. I respect you and your feelings. And, if you don't want to go...I'll understand."

I'm amazed I could hear everything he said over my pounding heart. Do I want to do this? Do I want to risk being across the country with a man I just met? _A man who I want to touch me. _I lean my forehead on the wall, curling my body inward. The wall doesn't give me an answer, but my heart does. "Okay," I whisper.

"Okay?"

"I'll go with you. To New York."

He doesn't say anything, but I can hear some movement and rush of wind. "Wonderful," he says simply, but there's a heavy dose of excitement in his voice. "We need to leave soon. How quickly can you pack?"

"Um." I press my lips together and glance at my small closet. "An hour, I think."

"I'll pick you up at noon precisely. Have you eaten?"

"No."

"That's fine. We'll eat on the jet."

"Jet?" I echo.

"Yes. My private jet," he muses. "It'll save time."

_Save time. Sure. _"Uh, okay. I'll start packing...now."

"Good. I'll see you soon. Bye."

I smile. "Bye, Derek."

I lower the phone from my ear. Did I just agree to spend the weekend in New York...with Derek Hale? Yes! Yes, I did. My mind is screaming as I jump from the bed, nearly tripping over my sheets. Kira doesn't wake as I furiously begin stuffing my duffel bag with clothes. The suitcase I have is too big, especially if I'm only spending one night. _One night with Derek. Night. _I freeze in front of the sink with my toothbrush in hand. I agreed to spend the night with him. I hope he doesn't...do I want him to? Do I want to? Even though we've only just met? What if I..._  
_

"Em...Emma," Kira groans.

"Yeah?" I call out from the bathroom.

"What're you doing?" she slurs, still groggy and half-asleep.

"Packing."

"Wh...why?"

I exit the bathroom and don't meet her eyes. "I'm spending the weekend with Derek."

Now, she wakes up. "What? Where? Why? How?"

I kneel in front of my duffel bag. My nice black dress is folded gently at the bottom. I don't feel too bad about it, but it's only a dinner event. Semi-formal...hopefully. "We're going to New York. He has a dinner thing, and he invited me."

"And you said yes?"

"I'm packing, aren't I?"

She slides off the bed and crawls over to me, eyes still partially closed. "Emma, are you sure this is a good idea? If he asked you to spend a night with him, he obviously wants s-"

"I know, Kira!" I snap. I'm more scared because she's right, than angry. "He hasn't kissed me yet, but I know he wants to. I want him to...touch more...of me. He says he respects me, and I believe him. If it comes to _that_, I'll deal with it then, okay? I can take care of myself."

"I know you can, but...it doesn't stop me from worrying. Worrying that you'll be in that situation...across the God damned country!" She slaps her thigh and leans back against her bed. "Emma...I won't be able to help if you're all the way over there. You should have a back-up plan...just in case."

I turn away from her. She's right. _Call Papí. _The idea of calling my father sends chills down my spine and my throat tightens. He has friends in New York, I know that. Germaine Colbert, I think. "Don't worry," I say as confidently as I can. "I can call my father...if I have to."

Kira furs her eyebrows. I haven't told her about my father. "Okay. Well...have fun, at least."

"I'll try," I say, but can't manage a smile.

**...**

"Good morning, Emma."

I gaze up at Derek sheepishly. "Morning."

Derek is waiting for me outside the dorm house. I hadn't expected him to walk all the way over here. He looks casual and relaxed in his jeans, leather coat, and sneakers. His eyes fall on my duffel bag. "Do you have something for tonight?"

"I have a black dress," I shrug halfheartedly. "It's not as fancy as the red dress I wore, but it's...nice."

Without warning, he takes my duffel bag from me. He grabs it from the end of the strap and lifts it off my shoulder, then onto his. He waits for me to lead the way and I start walking. "Have you been to a business dinner before?"

"Yes."

He playfully raises an eyebrow at me. "Date a lot of billionaires, do you?"

I blush and frown at him. "No. I've attended my father's business dinners before."

"Your father? What does he do?" he asks, truly intrigued.

"Sales," I lie. "Why?"

"I'm curious, Emma. I want to know you." He lowers the handle and grabs the side straps as we descend down the stairs.

"Knowing my father and knowing me are two different things. Hi, Boyd."

"Miss Ventura," Boyd nods at me. He takes my bag from Derek and loads it into the trunk of the Escalade.

Sitting inside the car, I realize Derek hasn't touched me, and I'm disappointed. He slides in beside me and my heart jumps with anticipation, but...he doesn't reach for my hand. Instead, one hand rests on his thigh while the other is on the door, against the window. Boyd takes off onto the highway, and we ride in annoying silence. _I hate awkward. _I squirm. I nearly jump when Derek speaks, "Have you been to Liberty Island?"

"No. I've never been to New York."

"Well, then...I can treat you to all the cliche tourists spots. Liberty island, Central Park, and whatever else you want to see. Though, the Metropolitan is showing the Phantom of the Opera-"

"Shut up!" I gasp. "The Phantom of the Opera? I've always wanted to see that."

He smiles at my childish glee. "Then we can go there after dinner. It's quite long, so we'll end up staying nearly all night."

"I don't mind," I say.

Hesitantly, I place my hand on the seat between us. I keep my hand close to my hip to seem inconspicuous. If he notices, he doesn't give any clue that he does. My hand is ignored the whole way to the small airfield. Derek still opens the door for me, but doesn't hold his hand out. A lump forms in my throat, but I force it down. The jet is sleek and white. It reminds me of a bullet, meant for speed and stealth. Derek still doesn't touch me as we enter the jet.

I'm surprised by it's spaciousness. To my right is the cockpit, with two plush leather seats. The pilot stands in the doorway, and I'm shocked it's a woman. She smiles politely. "Good afternoon, Mr Hale, Miss Ventura."

"Uh, hi," I say.

"Is everything a go, Meredith?"

"Yes."

I continue walking, ignoring their plane talk. There's a shiny, dark brown table surrounded by white leather chairs. Behind it is a large couch with two chairs and a coffee table in the middle. Beyond that is a door. I sink down onto the couch as Boyd takes the bags somewhere beyond the door. When he returns, he nods at me. "Have a safe trip, Miss Ventura."

"Thank you, Boyd."

He walks swiftly towards the door, whispers something to Derek, then disappears. I watch, nosy, as Derek and Meredith finish their conversation. Another pilot enters, shakes hands with Derek, then disappears into the cockpit with Meredith. Derek strides past me into the other room. He returns with two sparkling glasses. He holds one out to me, but holds it in a way that when I grab it, our fingers don't touch.

"What's beyond the door?" I ask to distract myself from my disappointment.

"A kitchen. Beyond that is a bedroom," he says. "I prefer to take my jet wherever I go. Even on long flights."

"Oh." My drink smells like soda. I take a sip. Yup, soda.

"Is something bothering you?"

_Yes. _"Nope." I stare down at my glass, refusing to look at him.

"Emma," he says in warning. "Look at me."

I clench my jaw and turn my head towards him. I struggle to maintain eye contact. My eyes keep flicking to his lips and cheek. _I want to touch his face again. Feel his lips. _

"Tell me," he orders. There's a ghost of a smile on his face, like he's hiding something.

My cowardice gets the best of me. I stand up and head for the chair. "Emma, don't!"

The plane leans upwards and I fall, spilling the drink in my hand. _Fuck me! _I hadn't realized the plane was even moving. The soda spills all over the carpeted floor and my panic takes over. _Oh, shit! Shit! Shit! _I ignore Derek as I get up and head for the kitchen. Under the sink I find a bunch of white rags. I snatch them and run back to the dark spot on the floor. "Emma, stop, it's alright," Derek urges. "Emma. Stop."

I ignore him as I drop to my knees and begin dabbing the floor with the rags. It's expensive. I know it. I've ruined his ridiculously expensive jet. The carpet's probably imported from fucking Italy or something. _Shit! _"Emma, get up!"

"No!" I shout back and continue dabbing the carpet.

Suddenly, Derek drops to his knees and his hands fall on mine. I freeze. _He's touching me! _"Please," he whispers. "Stop."

I raise my eyes to meet his. His eyes are dark and full of some deep desire that I fear he'll lunge at me. But, he doesn't. He takes the rag from my hands and rolls it tightly in his hands. So tight, I think it'll break. "Your shirt is stained," he says, unblinkingly.

I glance down at my shirt. He's right. The bottom half of my shirt is wet and spotted with soda. "Go change in the bedroom," he orders. "Lock the door."

_Lock the door? _"What?"

"Just do as I say," he growls and abruptly, stands up. He turns his back to me. Like a scolded child, I walk into the bedroom and close the door.

The bedroom is really just a bed. There's a small dresser, very small with two drawers, against the left side. Next to the headboard is another door. _The bathroom? _My duffel bag rests against the ride side. I grab it and place it on the bed and begin digging for my shirt. I was going to wear it tomorrow, but I suppose I can get away with wearing it twice. Peeling my clothes off, I begin to feel bare to the bone. I feel exposed despite being alone. When I put on my clean shirt, I feel relieved. Perhaps, this was a mistake.

"I told you to lock the door."

I yelp and whirl around. Derek stands in the doorway, glaring at me. His hand is still around the doorknob. He steps inside and softly closes the door. I step back but my heel hits the bed. My phobia screams and my ears start to ring. _Where to run? Bathroom? _The realization that I'm in a bedroom, on a plane, with no where to run dawns on me. "Are you deaf?" Derek scolds. "I told you to lock the door."

I frown as anger spurns in my chest. "You just yelled at me for trying to clean up _my _mess. Sorry I forgot to lock the fucking door."

He raises his hand and I flinch. Derek frowns at my reaction then at his raised hand. "Emma, I'm not going to hit you. Damn it!" He runs both of his hands through his hair. "Do not do that again."

"Not lock the door?" I sputter in disbelief.

"Drop onto your hands and knees," he whispers.

"Why?"

"Just don't!" he snaps.

"Why are you mad at me?" I snap back. "Why won't you touch me?!"

His eyes whip to mine in shock. I don't care how it sounds. I want to know. He said he wants this to work, and so do I. So, why? "Emma, you have...no idea how much I want to touch you. How much I want to touch you...everywhere."

_Everywhere? _My phobia trembles beneath my skin, eager for escape or excited-I don't know. "I'm restraining myself," he continues. "Knowing my past and what I've experienced...I'm trying really hard to respect your feelings and the time you need. I told you. I keep people at arm's length. I'm used to getting what I want and moving on."

I feel like I've walked right into a wall. _Getting what he wants? _He raises his hand and again, I flinch. I see the pain and longing in his eyes. "You have no idea how much I'm not right for you. I'm...not a good person, Emma. I want to kiss you. I want to touch you. I _want_ you." He sighs and lowers his hand again. "I'm sorry, Emma. I asked you to come with me out of selfishness. I crossed the line last night...and honestly, I might cross it again. I thought we...I hoped we could move forward. That I could touch you more, but...I'm a selfish man, Emma."

There's more he wants to say, I can tell. His shoulder slump and he turns to glare out the window. "I'll talk to Meredith. We're probably somewhere over Nevada. You can take this jet back to Beacon Hills. I'll take a flight the rest of the way to New York."

_No! _I grab his hand as he turns away. He stops and stares at me with wide, vulnerable eyes. My phobia is screaming inside my head and it takes all my willpower not to let go of his hand. I open his palm and hold it up to my face. My cheek prickles from the heat of his hand. My phobia is screaming louder, deafening me. Defiantly, I place his hand on my face. My phobia goes quiet as exciting jolts spread across my skin. It's all I can feel. Pulsating jolts that brings back that strange feeling in my gut. I close my eyes and relish the feeling of his soft hand on my face. His thumb moves, brushing against my lips, tracing my curves. I moan from the enthralling touch.

His thumb is gone and is replaced by something soft and eager. _His lips! _The foreign feeling in my gut blooms downwards. _Oh? Is this what it means to want someone? _I feel his other hand on my back, keeping me in place. Derek's lips move against mine and I moan. My sense of touch is overly sensitive. He suddenly pulls away and I want to cry. "Do you want me to stop?"

I shake my head and he kisses me again. I feel his breath on my nose. It tickles and excites me even more. His hand presses on my back, bringing me closer to him. I keep my hands on his hand, chaining it to my face. I nearly gasp as I feel his tongue on my lower lip. _Sex! SEX! _Fear suddenly takes control and I pull my lips away from him, pressing my chin against my chest. I don't let go of his hand despite my phobia slithering back into my head to remind me of it's presence. "I'm-"

"Don't apologize," I say shakily. "You'll ruin it."

His hand slides from my grasp and his fingers brush against the nape of my neck, then down my back. I'm in his arms again. "I finally kissed you," he says.

"It was exhilarating," I confess.

He laughs and my head bobs. "I agree. You taste like Pepsi...or was it a Coke?"

Now, I laugh. I gaze up at him. His eyes are light and happy. I smile and creep my hand towards his face. My fingers gently brush against his lips. They're smooth and a soft color of pink. They nearly blends in with his skin tone. His stubble tickles my fingertips as I inch my fingers upwards, along the curve of his nose and around his eyebrow. "I want to kiss you again," he says.

My heartbeat quickens in agreement. I step out of his arms and quickly slip off my boots. I climb onto the bed and stand on my knees. "What're you doing?"

"Shortening the height difference," I explain. "I don't want you to have to bend down so far."

He snorts, but wraps his arms around me once more. He does so slowly as to not startle me. He still has to lower his head, but now, he doesn't have to bend his back. His mouth hovers over mine. I glide my hands up his chest towards his face, relishing the jolts in my fingertips. I lift my chin and our lips meet. The exhilarating shock waves that pulsate from our lips spread through my body down to the desire in the lower part of my gut. I grab his wrist and place his hand on my cheek. The extra sensation heightens my excitement. His hand slides around my jaw and his fingers are buried in my hair, cupping the back of my head. Derek pulls his lips from mine for a moment. "Open your mouth," he orders.

_What? _I'm too captivated to answer.

"Open your mouth," he repeats.

He kisses me, again. More eagerly this time. Brazenly, my lips part. The kiss intensifies. I expect him to take control and dominate my mouth with his tongue, but he doesn't. His tongue is soft and sweet and it beckons mine over. Before I have a chance to accept his invitation, his tongue hooks onto my upper lip and he gently sucks. I gasp at the sudden painful pleasure. His tongue is on mine, luring me into a wistful dance. I feel weightless for a moment then feel comfortable suede beneath me. _On the bed, _my phobia warns. I ignore it. This is what I want. I want to kiss this man. I want him to touch me. _Bed! SEX! _

I groan and comply to my phobia's wishes. I roll away from Derek, out of his arms. I glare up at the ceiling. Derek scoots closer to me and holds his hand over my face. _He's asking permission? _I grab his hand and place it on my cheek. I turn my head to look at him, but keep my back on the bed. His thumb rubs my lower lip and he leans in, chastely kissing me. Flutters of electricity dance down my nerves. He rests his head on his arm and continues to stroke my face with his thumb. Neither of us saying anything, simply staring into each other's eyes.

**...**

I'm warm. I open my eyes and my vision is filled with dark grey and the smell of musk and a hint of spice. I hear a groan and realize I'm curled up against Derek's chest. His arms are limply curled around me. Our clothed legs are entwined and he's half-lying on his back. I feel comfortable. Safe, even. I prop myself up on my elbow. I don't remember falling asleep, and we're still flying. Derek groans again and I look down at him. He inhales deeply and tightens his hold of me, snuggling closer. I raise an eyebrow as he does this. My phobia is quiet, suspiciously so.

My elbow starts to ache and I move to support my weight with my forearm. This brings me closer to Derek's face. Gently, I trace the outline of his lips with my fingers. He moans in response, but doesn't wake. Nervously, I lean forward and press my lips to his. "Emma..."

I pull away in surprise. Derek's still asleep, but he's grumbling deep in his throat. "...be...mine...ducks..."

There's a loud, dull ding and I freeze in Derek's arms. Meredith's voice comes over the intercom, "Mr. Hale, Miss Ventura, we'll touch base in thirty minutes."

The intercom shuts off. Derek groans and sighs as he rubs his face in the pillow. He rolls onto his back and opens one eye. "Was that Meredith?"

"Yeah. She said...we're almost there."

"Hm." He sits up and uncurls his arms from my body. "Did you sleep okay?"

I nod, missing the safety of his arms. Derek scoots closer, bringing his face only mere inches from mine. He leans a little closer and I can feel his breath on my face. I close the space between us and kiss him softly. Derek deepens the kiss and places his hands on my forearms. Abruptly, he pulls away. "We need to strap ourselves in. The landing can be rough."

"Okay," I say, disappointed.

He grabs my hand and leads me back into the main room and we sit in the comfy leather chairs. The landing is smooth. I hardly feel it. We wait for a long while until the seat belt sign goes off and the door opens. A tall, extremely handsome man enters. He's so tall, he has to duck his head. "Good afternoon, Mr. Hale."

"Hello, Danny. Our bags are in the bedroom."

"Yes, sir," Danny nodded. "The car is right outside. Miss Ventura, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Hi. Danny, is it?"

"Yes, ma'am." He nods courteously then leaves to retrieve our bags. Derek grabs my hand and leads the way out of the plane. I cannot help but smile. He's holding my hand. I'm happy.

**...**

"Whoa."

St. Regis is nearly as tall as Hale Tower. It stretches into the sky like a gothic cathedral with golden yellow stone and decorative Roman accents. Derek drags me to the front desk, but I barely pay attention as I gawk around. The other guests occasionally glance my way and frown disapprovingly at my gawking. Of all the places I have been with my father, this is by far the grandest. Something Derek says snatches my attention away, "...two twin beds and-"

"Twin beds?"

He turns to me with raised eyebrows. "Yes," he says matter-of-factually. "My usual suite only has one bed, so-"

"That's fine."

His eyes grow wide. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He stares at me for a moment then turns back to the receptionist. "My usual suite, then."

I fidget with my fingers. Danny takes off towards the elevators with the bags. How is he gonna get into the room? Some special master key? Once Derek is done, he takes my hand and we head to the elevators. Danny is already gone. The elevator is empty besides us. "I'm surprised," Derek says. "I thought for sure you'd prefer a room with two beds."

"I had no problem sleeping on the plane with you...in the same bed." My voice grows quiet. _Sex! Sex! _my phobia screams. Shut up. I know.

"I don't want you to do anything you don't want to," Derek says carefully. "Or anything you're not ready for. Don't push yourself for my sake. I'm unusually patient with you."

"Unusually?" I frown.

"I told you. I'm used to getting what I want and moving on," he says coldly. His face softens at my timid expression. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay," I whisper. For the first time since I've met him, I want to pull away.

The doors open. The hallway is exquisite with dark carpet and cream colored walls with various golden framed mirrors and paintings. Derek stops in front of an ornate door. He moves so that I can step through first. The room is jaw-droppingly beautiful. Dark chocolate couches and chairs surround a glass coffee table with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The windows are accented by light brown curtains that highlight the white and green-gray walls. "Excuse me, Miss Ventura."

I step back sheepishly as Danny walks into the other room carrying my duffel bag and a suitcase. Derek follows Danny into the other room. I glance around the room once more. I feel so...out of place here. This room screams expensive and extravagance. And, here I am in my simple clothes. This is nothing like Mexico. I motion to sit on the couch, but stop once Danny exits the other room. He nods at me, "Miss Ventura, enjoy your stay."

"Thank you." I blush despite his professional smile.

He leaves the room, closing the door firmly. Derek stands by the doorway, leaning on the frame. "The dinner is in an hour and a half. Should probably start getting ready."

"Yeah," I agree.

He steps into the room. "I'll change out here. You can have the bedroom."

"Oh. I was just gonna change in the bathroom," I admit.

He shrugs as he slips his hands into his pockets. "Whatever you want."

I don't respond as I enter the bedroom. I quickly grab my large bag and rush into the bathroom, locking the door. My black dress is more modest than the red dress I wore to the charity event. A sleeveless body con lacy dress. It covers my chest and back, which I am very grateful for. However, on my left upper arm is a large, ugly, jagged scar that runs from the top of my shoulder, across my arm and into the inside of my elbow. I do my best with my make-up to cover it up, but it's still easily visible. I pin my hair in way that it falls over my left shoulder, hiding most of the scar.

I stare at myself in the mirror, but my eyes keep falling onto my scar. A sick feeling forms in the pit of my stomach. My scars are like brands. Brands that signify what an ugly person I am. A knock on the door startles me. "Emma? Are you ready? We need to leave."

"Uh...in a minute." I strap on my purple heels. They belong to Kira and they're more comfortable than my black ones. I hesitate in front of the door. _Don't notice my scar. Please, don't see it. Please. _I summon my courage and open the door. Derek's eyes light up upon seeing me. He smiles as he eyes drape over me from head to foot. "You look amazing."

_Oh, thank God. He didn't notice. _"Thank you."

He raises his hand and hovers. I tilt my head to press my cheek into his palm. He smiles at me as his thumb rubs against my cheekbone. "You're so beautiful."

My cheeks reddened, but in a way that I am flattered at his admiration of me. I reach up and touch his lips. Effortlessly, he lowers his mouth to mine and our lips collide in perfect unison. But, this kiss is innocent and sweet, not passionate like on the plane. He pulls away and his hand falls off my face. "Shall we? I wouldn't want us to be unreasonably late."

"Oh," I say. "Right."

**...**

The black car pulls up in front of a french restaurant. Danny opens Derek's door first, then mine. There was a line of people, dressed better than me, waiting by the door. Two doormen opened the french doors for us. I flushed at the jealous looks of the other hungry customers. Even the hostess said nothing as Derek whisked me beyond the lobby. Incredibly percussion music played as people talked and ate, toasting with their wine and savoring their steaks. Two couples sat at a large table near the center of the room. One man wore a charcoal grey suit and the woman at his side had a very small pink dress on. The other man was incredibly handsome and appeared younger than Derek. His eyes were light green and full of intelligence. At his side, was Christine Harmon.

"Emma!" Christine waves her arm excitedly.

I wave politely back and look up at Derek. "I thought she was going to Nice with her husband."

"So did I," he grumbles.

Christine is quick on her feet, but her hands are planted firmly on her belly. "It's so wonderful to see you again, Miss Ventura. Hello, Derek."

"Christine...what an unexpected surprise," Derek says with heavy disappointment.

The handsome young man stands beside Christine and places his arm across her shoulders. "That'd be my fault, Derek."

Derek rolls his eyes but turns to me. "Emma, this is Jordan Parrish. Jordan, this is my girlfriend, Emma Ventura."

He motions to raise his hand in offering to shake, but Christine grabs his hand and quickly shakes her head at him. The other man stands and clears his throat. He is impressively tall with a close-shaved head and menacing eyes. "Emma," Derek continues. "This is Ennis, and his girlfriend, Kali. Ennis, Kali, this is Emma Ventura."

Ennis's eyes glaze over me as if determining if I'm worth his time. Kali narrows her eyes, keeping her arm firmly attached to Ennis. "Pleasure," Ennis finally says.

"Same," I say and nod.

We sit. I am comfortably in-between Derek and Christine. Ennis dives right into business and begins babbling about numbers and mergers. Jordan and Christine counter him while Derek seems to be playing mediator. I notice that Kali is quiet but is able to keep up with the argument. They might as well be speaking another language. I focus on my food as they continue talking. Derek leans over and whispers, "Are you bored?"

"A little," I admit.

"Want to leave?"

I blink at him. "Isn't this a business dinner?"

"Precisely," Christine butts in.

I lean away from her in surprise as Derek glares at her. "Trust me," she says. "These things are always boring. Derek, if she wants to leave, you can both go. Jordan and I have a handle on this."

"And how exactly do you expect us to leave without offending the sensitive walrus on the other side of the table?" he says. For a moment, I fear Ennis will hear, but he continues ranting to Jordan.

"I have an idea," I whisper. I scoot my chair back and stand up. All eyes fall on me. "Um...excuse me."

I bite the inside of my cheek as I grab my clutch purse and head to the bathroom. Inside, there's nearly an endless row of stalls and gorgeous silver framed mirrors. Thankfully, there is a chair at the other end and I plop down. I briefly check my phone and see a message from Kira. I text her before sending a text to Derek that I'll wait in the bathroom until the others are convinced I'm sick and need to leave.

"Ah!" a voice from inside a stall yelps. "Oh, my!"

I pause and glance around the bathroom. I can hear shuffling and hurried movement. Curious, I bend forward and peer down under the stalls. I can't really see. The doors come down nearly all the way to the floor. I lean to my right and I'm able to see a pair of mix-matched feet under a stall in the middle. A woman's foot in golden heels and a man's shiny leather shoe. _Holy fuck! _I sit up right and my face immediately burns. The man's grunting gets louder, mixing with the woman's moans. It's unbearable to hear.

The door swings open and the couple is instantly silent. Christine swiftly closes the door and crosses the room to me. "I'll go back and tell Derek you're unwell. Wait for him in the lobby, okay?"

"Um." My eyes flick to the occupied stall then back to Christine. "Okay. Thank you."

"Of course," she smiles warmly. "You know, I've never seen him so interested in anyone before. He really likes you. I can tell."

My heart nearly skips a beat. She's being sincere. I can obviously tell. Christine leaves the bathroom first. I duck my head and quickly walk by the occupied stall and hide inside the lobby. My cheeks are still burning. I press my hands against my face, trying to reduce my temperature. The sounds of the couple fills my head and I have to will the sounds away. "Emma?"

Derek approaches me with a worried expression. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." I try to sound confident. "I'm sorry. I know that dinner was important."

"Not really. Ennis is wanting to merge our companies, but I'm not interested. He's looking to cover his own losses and thinks I can help him with that." He shrugs. "I knew you wouldn't have a good time, but I'm glad you came with me."

"I'm glad, too," I say and smile. He smiles back.

"Derek, is that you?"

We both turn towards the voice. A gorgeous woman with long golden blond hair walks towards us. I notice she's wearing golden heels. Derek inhales sharply and his face pales. "Kate."

* * *

**end of chapter 5**

**please review**


End file.
